


Waiting for a star to fall

by StormXPadme



Series: Tales Untold [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Aragorn and Legolas first meeting, Archery, Bisexual Male Character, Blindness, Blood and Injury, Caras Galadhon, Casual Sex, Congenital Insensitivity to Pain, Depression, Drinking, Drunk Sex, Eating Disorders, Elvenking's Halls, F/M, Falling In Love, Fate & Destiny, Fights, First Age, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Gondolin, Healers, Horses, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Death in Childbirth, Implied/Referenced Torture, Jealousy, Lothlórien, M/M, Medical Procedures, Miscarriage, Near Death Experiences, Oral Sex, Protective Thranduil, Rivendell | Imladris, Rohan, Sailing To Valinor, Sea-longing, Separations, Superstition, Third Age, Twins, Wolves, aka the one where Aragorn and Legolas hate each other's guts at first, based on movies and books except for the Hobbit movies, black Mearas, part time boyfriends with more issues than imladris daily, the epic tale of Aragorn being done with the whole family Oropherion's shit, you can pry librarian!Erestor from my cold dead hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:35:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 104,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21637480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormXPadme/pseuds/StormXPadme
Summary: Tension between Mirkwood and Lórien has run high for centuries. There's hate, bitterness and prejudice. These borders do not exist for every elf, but can Legolas resist tradition held up by his own father?
Relationships: Aragorn | Estel & Legolas Greenleaf, Aragorn | Estel/Arwen Undómiel, Arwen Undómiel & Legolas Greenleaf, Erestor & Original Female Elf Character(s), Erestor/Glorfindel (Tolkien), Legolas Greenleaf/Original Female Elf Character(s)
Series: Tales Untold [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1559689
Comments: 111
Kudos: 40





	1. Prologue (chapter 1)

**Author's Note:**

> Cover: http://racoonicorn.myartsonline.com/wfastf.jpg
> 
> This is a translation of part #1 of one of my longest finished German fanfiction series (https://www.fanfiktion.de/s/45c49b7a0000161f06700fa0/1/Tales-Untold-WAITING-FOR-A-STAR-TO-FALL-1-). I am not a native speaker and apologize for any mistakes. The "Tales Untold"-series focuses much on Aragorn, Legolas and their respective relationships, but there's lots of other important plot lines coming into play, one of the biggest revolving around Glorfindel and Erestor.
> 
> The series combines the book verse with some circumstances from the movieverse, it ignores all of three of the Hobbit movies though (I wrote most of this series before those movies even were a thing). It's slightly non-compliant in places but I'm always trying to keep close to canon.
> 
> While the prologue of "Waiting for a star to fall" starts in F.A. 499, the story mostly takes place in the third Age and takes several leaps from T.A. 2070 to the beginning of the War of the Ring (stopping just short of "The Fellowship of the Ring").
> 
> Comments are more than welcome. I'm thirsting for them like so many others.

_F.A. 499_

**_S_** trike … Cower … Block … Jump … Stroke from behind … Heavens, _why_ was this boy so fragile looking? If this was any of his people, Glorfindel would not have felt qualms, preying on a clearly superior situation. But knocking someone out with a blow between his shoulder blades when you had to worry about hearing the sounds of cracking bones …

An annoyed hiss on his lips, he recoiled because his training partner immediately exploited his hesitation to get his own blade dangerously close.

A triumphant grin lit the young Noldo's pale face when he spun around. "Didn't you say, negligence brings death to every warrior, Captain?"

Glorfindel lowered his weapon sheepily, waiting until his training partner did the same, then he leaped and shoved him to the ground, choking every resistance by placing his sword to the other's neck. "Just like arrogance."

Angry about his own unwariness, the other elf pressed against Glorfindel's hard grip on his forearms but soon had to accept it was futile, especially since the sword's broad surface kept him from breathing with every passing second more. "I give up." Just three small words and yet so hard to mutter for a budding soldier. As much as the missing oxygen choked his voice, it still revealed unbroken readiness for combat.

A patient smile on his lips, Glorfindel got up and pulled Erestor with him. "Next time, it might end differently. It's not your skill. You lack restraint."

"I will work on that." Still out of breath, Erestor sheathed his sword in the battered holster on his belt and pushed back his mid-length hair from his forehead, sweat stained still from their fight. "Tomorrow?" he asked, hopefully, when Glorfindel climbed the broad stairs to the golden framed main entrance of his house, his thoughts straying already. An elf with so many responsibilities always had to manage his time well, and they had already spent more of it together than planned this afternoon.

"We will see." Glorfindel tried to emphasize the distance in his words. "You can't keep on spending your time here. Your father wants you home more often."

" _Right_." Erestor didn't even try softening his snidely tone. While he wasn't even halfway grown up yet, he was far from naive. His parents had probably long given up, trying to pretend they held him to the same high value as his brother.

For a moment, he didn't move as if expecting an answer, an encouragement that his trainer could not give him because he stayed out of matters like that on principle. When Glorfindel kept silent and walking, he shortly bowed, knowing Glorfindel would see it in the door's reflection and how important such things were to him, then he left the front yard, shoulders slumped.

Glorfindel waited until the boy had vanished through the gate's columns, trying to leave the conversation outside as he entered the extensive lobby of the House of the Golden Flower. Later, at dusk, with all of his daily duties taken care of, his thoughts would probably be back with his latest charge, but at least for a moment, the familiar view helped forgetting about his worries.

It had been on purpose, installing an entrance hall this huge, an impression heightened by the high ceiling and six-foot windows on three sides. What the room lacked was excessive pomposity thar would have only distracted Glorfindel. Symmetrically placed columns, unadorned, unlike the ones by the gates, seamed the sides. Disregarding an artfully woven carpet above the staircase, he had forgone every needless furnishing in here. A decision which might have left an impression of impersonality on a guest. Whoever knew the landlord of this mansion though, would probably admit the sight fitted him ... sober, uncomplicated and yet immensely self-assured. Not least it was the golden doors with the beaming sun in them, dominating this hall in every respect, filling it with the stored warmth of the very same star, that people liked to associate with Glorfindel.

This part of the house had been special to him from the start, something seldom seen in Gondolin. His house had never had much of the grandiloquent swank to be found in many other places of the city. He'd always appreciated this groundedness and in the past, had taken a few moments at every return to enjoy this feeling before attending to his responsibilities. For some time now though, he made sure to cover the distance to the stairway as quickly as possible. The quietness that tried to reach into every corner of the room as of late was unbearable.

It hadn't even been that long that cheerful voices, laughter and singing had ruled the house. Only since Glorfindel had returned from battle with not even half of his soldiers 27 years ago and the survivors had retired to deal with what they'd experienced, since the families of the fallen were drowning in ongoing grief, silence had moved into this estate. In here, the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, the Battle of Unnumbered Tears, was living up to its name.

Every time Glorfindel was greeted by treacherous quiet instead of the buzz of voices, the pictures of these loss-filled days were on his mind, and he all but fled into his private chambers, where at least the sizzle of an open fire prevented being crushed by the emptiness.

"You like the boy, mîl, don't you?" His housekeeper awaited Glorfindel in his living room on the first floor – an encounter he could have done without after the talk he'd just had.

By now he'd given up on monishing her for addressing him on such a private level in public. There was hardly anyone left in this house who could be fooled still anyway. At some point, it didn’t help anymore to systematically not look people straight in the eye to not give yourself away.

"You are a good watcher." Glorfindel fled the other elf's piercing gaze, stopping by the mantelshelf where a carafe of wine was prepared, like every night. Most of the time he left it untouched. Glorfindel had never felt as much urge for mundane pleasures as many others in this realm. Given the annoyed attitude of his partner, he was pretty certain though, he'd benefit from a glass to hold on to tonight.

"Do not give him hope." Sednara stepped behind him like she had the right, undid the cloak of his armor and opened the fastenings of the heavy plating with the huge sun on the front. A rather exaggerated effort for an opponent that weak, that more served Erestor's confidence than Glorfindel's protection. "He's not half as strong as the others."

"He never had good training. Inadequacy can be improved. If no one believes in him, he can't get better." Glorfindel dropped down on the white sofa by the fireplace and silently watched Sednara helping him discard his forearm and leg protection as well. It was nothing he wanted her to do, and not only because in unsteady times like these, it was always possible that someone could storm in announced with bad news. After many tiring discussions though, he had come to the conclusion that he would not be able to break some habits of hers. "The boy is too precious for a scribe. He's got the will and the spirit of a fighter."

"But not the body," retorted Sednara, in a harsh way like usually only the King and the other captains dared to disagreed with him.

"He's not even fully grown. His parents and his brother are nearly taller than me." Glorfindel realized, stunned, that half of his glass was gone already. Couldn't she have picked another day to criticize him about this? Or at least choose another subject to banter about before whatever she probably really had to say? He reached out for her to pull her down beside him, so they could watch the change of the day outside, which had become a treasured ritual. But today, she backed away before he could do more than touch her hand.

"It's not the height. He's way too thin. There's not an armor that fits him. He never leaves his room, except for being with you. You can't make this boy a close combat warrior, mîl."

"He's already shooting his bow quite well. If we ever face a disaster like that last battle again, we'll have to bring along every elf who can handle a sword anyway." Glorfindel started to feel seriously annoyed himself.

Sednara was not someone to rush her opinion to the front. Most elves hardly recognized her as a member of the realm. Her name would never be in any tale or legend. She was one of many. Someone not visiting this house regularly probably didn't even know she existed. On the streets, no one looked twice at her, for she did not captivate with either striking beauty or lavish clothing like many other she-elves. When there was a council, she would hardly speak up all evening.

But if she _did_ say something, it was always a thing of significance, and that was why he liked their conversations so much. It helped him, clearing his own mind when he could have it ricochet on her in depth thinking like a softball. But today, she was testing his patience.

She had to realize how heavy this subject weighed on him. And not only on him but on everyone involved with the army, everyone who was responsible for filling the blanks that the fallen had left in the troops. While a huge part of the population might believe, Gondolin's hidden position would protect it from every danger, Glorfindel and a few other captains were certain that the battle three decades ago had not been the last.

Yes, the king had assured, credibly, that he would not meddle in the affairs of those living outside the mountains anymore. But that did not mean, no one would meddle with theirs. Living all but in exile in these rocks was a high price for a freedom, that all around their realm was threatened more every day. It was perfectly possible that they would not see the danger coming.

"And you want him to be at the front row then, just because you gave him more confidence than it's good for him?" Sednara did not move an inch, not her words, not her body. She kept on standing before him, with her arms crossed, her brows raised, waiting for Glorfindel to explain himself like he didn't have to with anyone else.

Her hands inevitably attracted his sight when he tried to collect himself to not answer too harshly, a sharp wrinkle of anger dug into his forehead. "You're wearing it again."

"It is my _wedding ring_." Sednara's voice changed to that high, displeasing tone that made Glorfindel wish for the dulled senses of a Secondborn regularly. "It's a sacrilege for every tradition, hiding it like that. I'm not putting it down in here as well." Angrily, she raised her right hand, the narrow golden band softly shining on her ring finger. In that unusual place, it was seldom attracting attention. "Besides, you're deflecting like you always do when you don't like an issue. By now you should know that doesn't fly with me."

"What's _your_ deal with that boy all of a sudden?" Glorfindel put the empty glass on the side table too loudly. "You don't even know him. He's just another of my pupils, nothing more. And at that, he's bringing more heart and vigor than some of the most cherished warriors out there. I want to help him develop an independent personality, since his parents obviously can't."

"No, mîl." Sednara shook her head in sadness, feeling approved in a certainty about something that Glorfindel still couldn't grasp. "You want to help him develop _your_ personality. And that's what you can't. For you, in the end he'll be just another too young life that you'll have to mourn in the midst of battle."

Glorfindel drew a sharp breath. Dead on target as usual. The army did consist of too many unexperienced younglings for his taste. It wasn't helpful, being reminded once more how many of them had not survived the last conflict. And how many of those, he was training ever since then would fall in the next, if he didn't make sure they were prepared for the worst as quickly as possible.

Just in time before he could become rude, he swallowed his reply, closed his eyes to let those emotions that intense slip from him. Sednara was the only one who could make him lose control like that. In times of peace, they could have had a debate like this all night and longer. Since he had started dreaming, everything had changed. If what his subconsciousness by now showed him every night would become real someday … The he would need all of his strength to not lose everything he'd ever built in his life. Then he would only get Sednara in danger if his thoughts were more with her instead of the world he was hiding her from so passionately. "This is talk about the future. I live in the presence, always did, you know that. Visions are for tale weavers."

She just kept on staring at him, still. Her thick raven her that no comb could restrain for longer than a few minutes, hung low into her forehead but couldn't hide that her green brown eyes in the dwindling daylight gleamed angrier by the second. Her fragile hands were hard fists, her chest heaved faster than usual. She was fighting for restraint, just like he did.

"Sednara, _what_ is it?"

Instead of an answer, she turned abruptly, rushing to the door in a long stride.

Every other day, he would have let her go. That was how such conversations between them ended most of the time anyway. Sednara would calm down, she always did. Though this situation was hard to bear for her, as often as Glorfindel himself wished, he could have a family like everyone else, she _had_ agreed to it. Someday they would go public. When one did not have to fear an enemy behind every corner. Until then, they had their nights.

Today, something was different though. Without really knowing why, Glorfindel got up and blocked his wife's way by heavily resting one hand against the door. " _Talk to me_. I hate it when you act like that."

"You don't even realize anymore, do you?" Her voice trembling alarmed him more than anything else. Had he ever seen Sednara cry? "You really think I don't hear you scream in your dreams? You think I don't see how you treat your soldiers, torturing them until they pass out? You know something, and instead of talking about it to someone, instead of warning the others, you've been hiding in this house for months. So don't you dare blame me for not telling you everything."

"Warn them about what?" Glorfindel asked through gritted teeth. "About their own incautiousness? That they're underestimating the evil on this world? I cannot open their eyes, there's others who need to do that. Elves who see more clearly than me and who can talk to them better. I can only prepare them and hope that whatever it is that some mazy pictures keep on showing me at night, will never come true."

"And if it is? If war finds us again and all these people out there … Will you lead them to death then, though you already know, you can't win?"

"No one knows things like these beforehand." Glorfindel started to get the upper hand; he gasped a quiet breath of relief. These were things Sednara just didn't know anything about, as much insight as she usually had into his mind and no matter how many books she might have read. These were matters that only warriors could decide upon.

"Let me go," she asked, quietly, her voice still choked in this certain strange way. "I need to go. I should have left long ago. I don't want to watch this anymore. I can't keep on imaging you risking the lives of all these young elves …"

"This is my work, Sednara, you always knew that. What is this really about?" Harshly, on the edge of rough, Glorfindel took her shoulders and turned her around. Seeing indeed some salt glistening on her pale cheeks didn't hurt as much as expected. Maybe because she'd made it to get him seriously angry now. His conscience was wearing him down enough, without her throwing things in his face that no one could change.

His wife leaned back against the door frame, as if the short conversation had exhausted her. Never before had Glorfindel seen her look that resigned or regard him with a smile that accusing before. It frightened him a great deal.

Sednara wasn't bitter. She was realistic, cool, not easily fooled. She was attentive. Prepared, unlike many others in this realm.

She was sad, too, on some days more than he liked it, about how they had had to consummate their bond far away from the others, so not even their closest friends knew. Lonely, because she lived in this house like an employee, except for the few hours she could spend with him in between.

But she was not bitter. For that, she had always believed his reassurances too much that this whole thing was only a temporary secret. A captain with a family was vulnerable and therefore unfit for work. Sednara had never wanted him to give up on what he'd lived for all his life, or to get himself into danger because of her. At least that was what she had always told him.

Now something had changed, all but overnight. That concern in Sednara's eyes was no longer directed at him. Her thoughts were gathering around someone whom he didn't know.

But who? Her mother had died giving birth to her sister, something not too rare but tragic anyway, something that sometimes still got under her skin.

And her father who had protected said sister and her for such a long time, in some remote cave colony where a few elves were living who didn't want to have any dealings with fighting at all ... Her father of all people had been killed in a battle, on that same day when he had not been able to ignore the calls of sorrow and despair outside that safe fortress deep within the mountains anymore.

Back then, much in that community and in Sednara had been damaged, as far as Glorfindel knew. That was what he had been able to gather from the few times, they had talked about it.

Sednara must have all but fled to Gondolin back then, because she would not have stood spending even another day up there, and how she had found her way here, she had not even ever told him. Her old friends, naturally, she hadn't seen since then, due to the strict secrecy concerning Gondolin; they couldn't even write to each other. No one in that settlement that Glorfindel himself had never visited, knew about her work here, and especially not that she was not only living in this house to do it. Sednara couldn't even maintain contact to that sister whom for reasons she'd never told him, she had also left behind in this far realm.

There simply wasn't anyone left she was close to. Not so close, that their fate could upset her so much that she would suddenly doubt their eternal promise.

Unless …

Glorfindel lowered his arm. His hand was trembling, for the first time in hundreds of years.

Suddenly he knew, just like that, before she even said it. He shouldn't be half as surprised as he was - after all, they had made the decision to make this development possible some time ago. At least one single time, more or less unconsciously, in one of the few moments when their extremely unreliable wedding bond finally had worked right again fro once. Probably, both of them had had the same weak hope that things might change for the better if they changed something between the two of them ... But the next morning, they both quickly had realized again that in their situation, they just couldn't afford normal yet ... too late.

Instead, all at once, everything had gotten even worse now.

"You better start thinking about the future, mîl. I'm carrying your child."

"Why didn't you say just so?" While his mind was still busy trying to deal with the news, his mouth already betrayed him, forming the only thought echoing in his head like a battle cry.

_Sednara had wanted to go_ … If he had not stopped her, she would never have told him, she'd have left, forever maybe … With her stubbornness, it was entirely possible that she'd have tried to leave the city in secret. Her, the only light brightening his day in these difficult times, and without even letting him know …

The anger darkening Glorfindel's face made Sednara crawl back into that door even further. "I thought …" She stopped, swallowed thickly, suddenly robbed of her considerable vocabulary. "I thought, maybe you wouldn't …"

" _What_?" He was getting too loud, someone would hear, but what did it matter now? In a few months, everyone would know for sure what people had only been gossiping about behind every closed door so far. "That I would not stand by you? That I would not want a life with you anymore? Right, why would I want something _that finally brings some laughter into this house_?" He was sorry before he was even finished saying it, before Sednara stared at him, stunned, and finally left, hurrying to her room, away from him and this unmerited reproaches that he had never wanted to put on her.

She had trusted him.

She had come to him because there had been no one else able to comprehend her deep sadness about the fall of this world. No one to catch her, when her body and soul had threatened to give up. Depression had turned to melancholy, trust had turned to friendship. Friendship had turned to more.

Until Glorfindel had realized that in truth, it had been her who had saved _him_ from tumbling into a bottomless pit. Sednara's sadness had become a part of his life that had kept him awake and alert, a constant that had brought them closer every time it had taken over, every time he had shown Sednara the way back to life. That was how he had gotten to know, to love her – what in the world had gotten into him, blaming her for that of all things? With one single, rash sentence should he have destroyed everything between them? He should have followed her immediately, to apologize and tell her that he was happy about what she had revealed to him ...

He couldn't move a muscle. The pictures from his dreams were dancing in front of his eyes as if they'd come to life. The screams, the fire. The blood. And amidst all that chaos, in a big pool of red, a tall but very petite elf with empty eyes, cradling a small bundle under her cloak. Now, finally Glorfindel knew what that bundle was that in his dream, he had ever only seen in a blur.

He sank back down onto the sofa and buried his face in his hands.

_F.A. 500_

"Stay on the safe road. I don't want you to be out at night. Listen to your companion when he says something, he knows what he's talking about. And if you …"

"Glorfindel …"

"What?" Annoyed about being interrupted, he blinked down at Sednara.

There was no time to lose. Somehow, with a lot of effort, he had made it to wrest the permission for this from his ruler, Sednara and one of Glorfindel's best soldiers had sworn their oath of secrecy … Now they had to be quick. The region all around Gondolin had become unsafe in the last year. The scouts patrolling the close mountain passes had spotted groups of orcs combing through the area more and more frequently. So far, it was unlikely that they would find the secret paths into the city, but that wouldn't take much longer. The shadow was drawing closer, and the threat was growing every day. When would she finally get that?

"You're repeating yourself." She didn't sound irritated, not even tired. There didn't seem to be any emotion at all left in her, ever since they had left. Until now, a small part of her had probably hoped that Glorfindel would decide differently. Only now that they had reached the edge of the realm and stopped to say good-bye, she really seemed to realize how serious he was about all this.

Sednara's eyes were begging when she folded back her cloak and put their son into Glorfindel's arms for a last time. "He needs you, mîl ..."

"What he needs is a safe environment." As if his own soul wanted to mirror the turmoil even clearer that Sednara tried to suppress so badly, Glorfindel felt a few tears soaking the thick white linen the infant was sleeping in, when he held it close to his chest. "As long as I don't know what is happening here …"

"Let it go." His wife stopped him with a sharp gesture and took the baby back that had begun to cry quietly, as if felt that his father didn't want it being close to him. "It won't get better, no matter how often you explain it."

"This is not forever." Glorfindel tried to take Sednara into his arms but let go of her immediately because she stiffened as if he was a stranger. "I'm getting you back as soon as I can be sure, nothing will happen to you here. I cannot live with this thought, why don't you understand that?"

"But you make me live with it," she answered bitterly. "Me and your son, once he's old enough to ask me where his father is." Only for a moment, her rugged features grew soft when she kissed the baby on its forehead, because it still wouldn't calm down.

Glorfindel had nothing to say to that. Yes, his wife would have to keep on suffering the fear for him, and he couldn't even tell her when the situation would change. He shrugged, helplessly, trying to find an answer in the storm of emotions raging inside of him that wouldn't hurt her. He seldom was at a loss for words, but this wasn't a problem with his troops, unwilling soldiers or stubborn superiors.

This was his family, _his child_ … Every time he looked at his wife, this understanding, this deep feeling of happiness tried to overwhelm him, but it couldn't win against the voice of fear screaming at him, ever since the dangerous, difficult birth, that he had to get this happiness away from here to keep it safe. It was the biggest sacrifice that had ever been asked of him, to not be able to see his son grow up, learn, laugh. And at the same time, the only chance he saw. Around here, he just couldn't take care of them.

Maybe he wouldn't even be able to take care of himself. It was a thing of irony that the last vision that he always woke up to, the one that left him drenched in cold sweat every time, was the one that scared him the least. He would handle his own death, somehow, now that he knew that he wouldn't drag the two elves down with him that he cared more about than anything or anyone in his life. And who could say what would happen afterwards anyway? Maybe, someday ...

Before he could hug her again, Sednara backed off and nodded at the soldier who had waited in the distance discreetly, who now sat down on the coach box without a word.

The Noldo was one of Glorfindel's best and most loyal soldiers, still his heart ached with the thought that it should be this elf, taking care of his wife and his kid for some time now, while he could only wait and hope. Wait for them to arrive in some far away realm where there was peace. Hope that everything would turn out for the better and if it did, that they would still be there then. That Sednara would not exclude him from their life completely.

That cool look in her eyes amplified that worry to dizzying heights. Nearing her again, he put his hand on her cheek through the side window – the last touch for a long time. It felt like unbreakable barriers had been built between them already. Her skin was cold like marble from all those tears she'd cried in the last days and weeks. What if she would decide to break off every contact? To punish Glorfindel for wanting only the best for her?

All he could think of saying was the same promise that they both had held on to for years, through all secrets and difficulties. That sentence that somehow had always been able to mend everything, no matter how angry she had been with him. Today, even that one sounded empty, hollow. "I love you so much, Sednara. Both of you."

For a much too short, precious moment she caressed his hand, with her fingertips, her lips, her tear-stained cheek.

Then she pushed him away. "And I suppose, that it is not enough."

Before he could answer, she had already told the soldier to get the carriage going, so loud, so annoyed that the baby on her arm was screaming even louder.

The scared, desperate crying of his son would be the only thing that Glorfindel would hear from his family before his death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * mîl = love


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The wonderful ArvenaPeredhel is giving me a hand on this (check out her stories, like, now, because she is a Tolkien expert if I ever saw one!). Have a lil fluff for now ... Drama and blood is coming soon enough.

_T.A. 2070_

Even a stranger to these lands, one had to acknowledge without envy, there was no equal to the Golden Wood in its impartial beauty.

When forced to use the impenetrable tops of the huge mellyrn trees as a shelter from heavy rain, that view might lack a certain objectivity, but Legolas, who never had been that close to Lórien before, was honestly impressed. Unlike Mirkwood which had become a place of constant danger, with Sauron moving in into Dol Guldur, this was some good deed for a soul, alright. Time seemed to stand still around here. The broad trunks offered enough protection even from a powerful storm. Hardly any noise to break through the twilight, no threat of any kind that Legolas‘ fine senses could grope … Forced to be parted from home for way too long, this was at least a proper alternative, as much as Legolas had hesitated setting up camp here of all places.

Well, Thranduil didn’t need to know everything. As long as Legolas did not cross the Celebrant, there wouldn’t be awkward encounters with certain residents of this realm. Maybe he would even be able to sleep for a few consequent hours for a change, for the first time on this nerve-stretching journey with a purpose he still couldn’t quite comprehend. When his father next wanted to get rid of him for a few weeks, he better just told him instead of demoting him to a glorified menial.

"Bellar, that’s enough!" Good intentions of resting were doomed to fail though when bringing a horse that kept on pawing the ground or raising its voice to a tedious snort, occasionally pushing its nose to the side of the tent, which was already instable due to constant overstrain as it was. Legolas needed to have words about the animal with his father. Even if it really did bring a lot of good predisposition, for a warrior steed it definitely was too nervous, begetting day present or not.

"What’s wrong, big buy?" Sighing, Legolas crawled outside and gently touched Bellar’s head, trying to ease his fear with a few lowly murmured words in an old Sindarin dialect. "What did you see this time? Wargs? Bears? Flying mûmakil?"

Bellar‘s next loud bristle, close to sounding offended, prevented him from hearing in time what he should have been noticing ten minutes ago. Legolas took another second to call himself careless, inattentive and a fool before he spun around and grabbed the thin wrist closing up on him with a blade.

Only another elf could have crept up on him nearly unnoticed, so he refrained from drawing a weapon himself for the moment, just held the darkly clothed figure cowering in the bushes on distance. "What do you think you’re doing?"

He had anticipated a marchwarden of Lórien and was bewildered to see a slender shape when he stepped back and pulled the person with him, into what little moonlight shone onto the clearing through the roof leaves. A female elf.

Still shaking his head, he let go of her. One did not lightly raise a hand against a she-elf. Not even when for whatever reason they didn’t seem to be a friendly.

"Answer me," he demanded, not that harsh anymore but still plenty resolute.

"Lórien needs to be protected from any danger." Not even the defiance in it could rob that deep, very pleasant voice of its appealing sound. "The wardens told us to be careful about strangers in these lands. You could have been an orc!"

"Get your hair out of your face, then you might be able to see better." Legolas looked down at himself demonstratively. Granted, his beige and green leather tunics were a little battered from the weather and the less than graceful housing of the last weeks, but some insults, an elf didn’t take lightly.

"Fine, you’re a little tall for that." The elf finally put away her knife, pushed aside her bangs and looked him over with unashamed curiosity.

"I certainly hope, I am not disfigured enough either, and the stench should be missing as well," he added, dryly. "You should be thankful, you obviously never met one of these creatures. What do you hope to achieve with a blade like that when you do? Give them a haircut?"

For a moment, she looked like she was about to redraw her weapon and prove just how effective it was. Irritated, with her hands on her hips, she blew back that stubborn strand of hair that hadn’t stayed in place for longer than two seconds. "You speak too careless a word, stranger. My father gave this weapon to me. He said, in times like these one can never be careful enough."

"Whoever uses a weapon should be able to handle it. First of all, you have to be ready to kill with it, or your enemy will be faster. A female elf shouldn’t be too quick with handing out death though. I’m sure, your father taught you that as well." Legolas found he’d wasted enough time with bantering and sat down on the open entrance to his tent, ready to close it anytime if he couldn’t get rid of the visitor soon. "Better get some training before you try to rush someone again. And take a closer look next time."

"You shouldn’t be surprised that people attack you when you’re roving around like an orc on the hunt." Slightly piqued, the elf examined his dirt-stained, patched up accommodations, so low-rise that it fell over immediately when you got up higher than on your knees inside. "Do you not have a home?"

"My home is too far from here to escape the rain and get some good night’s sleep." Maybe some polite subtlety would be of help here ...

"An elf afraid of moisture? Afraid to ruin your do?" At least that didn’t sound aggressive anymore, just amused.

When the moon above spread its full power, the elf’s smile immediately grew, probably without her even realizing. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath as if the wan light was giving her delight, like a ray of sun. The rain clinging to her dark, shoulder length hair didn’t seem to bother her at all. Her dress was long soaked anyway.

The stranger started to grow on him, now that she’d lost her mistrust, now that the moon brought out her bright skin, her youthful fine features. Big, alert eyes, very full lips … She was a pearl, and without a doubt integrated perfectly into the hermetically sealed system of Lórien. All the more unusual for her to be out here this far.

It wasn’t any of her business, but Legolas wasn’t ready to take her mockery sitting down. "I’m traveling by order of my father. He’s sent me to collect some samples from a mining settlement near Lórien. And those need to stay dry."

"Still no reason to weasel around by the river in secret like a warg. Why don’t you come with me to Caras Galadhon?" The elf whistled loudly whereupon a small bright mare neared the clearing. "The city residents won’t bite, I promise."

"Not a good idea." Exactly the kind of conversation he had wanted to avoid. In probably no later than two minutes, his new acquaintance would be gone. A pity, really. Legolas tried his best not to let his eyes roam the elf’s body too obviously, that had not fully formed just yet. Curiosity aimed at the wrong people could kill. "I am not welcome there."

Now he’d made it to seriously confuse the stranger for the first time. "If you are not wearing a really good disguise and are an orc after all, you’re an elf, just like me, mellon. What is it that you fear?"

"I am not like you. I call Mirkwood my home." What good was it, beating around the bush? As soon as the elf would get back to Caras Galadhon, they would tell her who she’d been talking to. Legolas had little doubt that at least Lady Galadriel would be fully aware of him being close. The only reason, the marchwardens had not seized him was that he had not crossed the river. There were certain borders, an elf in Middle-earth did not cross in any way.

"So what? My mother used to live there for a while as well before she met ada." To Legolas surprise, the elf’s smile did not falter for even a second, the unexpected revelation only added a hint of melancholy. "Your descent does not make you a lesser person."

"Your people would disagree." That much naivety only drew a tired laugh from Legolas’ lips. "Or has there already been a change in leadership again? Do you happen to rule Lórien as of late? You didn’t tell me your name yet." At least that much he wanted to know, though he would probably never see the elf again once her people told her everything about the hostility between Lady Galadriel and Thranduil.

Residents of opposite sides of this river usually didn’t have any dealings with each other. No matter how the love between this other elf’s parents had come to pass, Legolas seriously doubted it had started in either of their homes. Probably the whole thing had only worked out without provoking a new blood feud, because the elf’s mother originally hadn’t been from Thranduil’s realm.

"Well, why would I?" She dramatically put a hand on her chest. "You might end up putting a spell on me, or send a horde of evil trees after me. Or you’ll slay me with your rock samples …"

For a moment, neither of them said anything, then liberating laughter in two voices broke the silence of the night.

"Now come on, you‘re soaking wet." The elf reached out her small hand to Legolas.

"Tempting, but no." He got back up without touching her, to look her in the eye. A look that would probably haunt him in some upcoming sleepless nights before it would become a sweet memory of an otherwise rather dull journey. "My father is very strict about these things. I’d hate to annoy him even more. It’s bad enough that I’ll be home in the palace much too late."

"Home in the …?" The elf tilted her head in that lovely childlike way, taking another close look at him. "You are … Legolas, aren’t you? Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of Mirkwood."

Legolas made do with a short nod only, wondering how she’d come to the conclusion so quickly. Elves of Lórien seemed to be better informed about Mirkwood and its habitants than one would believe, given the ongoing mutual animosities.

He expected the elf to take her leave, now that she knew that every contact between them would bring nothing but trouble.

She didn’t take her leave. She took a short, respectful bow. "It is my pleasure. Tarisilya Vandriniel."

Tarisilya – a somewhat willful wordplay which probably meant as much as ‘moon ruler‘. So Legolas had seen that right: She was a child of the night.

And there was something else he immediately noted about her name. The few males of his folk who committed to the art of medicine were known far beyond the borders of their realms. "Vandrin? I heard of your father. Isn’t he nearly as old as Lord Elrond?"

He was surprised that Vandrin – known for centuries as a conjurer of magic not openly welcome everywhere – should have a daughter that young. Elves usually married early in their lives.

Legolas‘ own father though had already been an exception to that, just like Elrond and his still unwed kids. Legolas himself had not met anyone to raise his interest in that regard so far either. Sometimes you had more important things to do, as Thranduil would have put it. That legendary healer of Lórien had probably long felt the same.

"They were born shortly after one another." Tarisilya grimaced. "They don’t get along too well. It seems, dispute among elves are a custom in Middle-earth. They‘re like children, sometimes, that’s what I think. I just can’t say it too loud or ada will lock me up in my room. But Lord Elrond and him, they only argue about little things. At bottom, they‘ve got the same opinions, they just voice it differently. Nothing compared to that drama that your father and Lady Galadriel keep on hosting. I mean – _seriously_."

"Yes, I think that covers quite well." Legolas caught himself grinning when Tarisilya openly voiced what he’d only dared to think so far, when his father insisted on being announced as ‘King Thranduil under the oak and the beech’ or enlightened some reception with other side blows against Lórien.

"What are _you_ doing out here that late?"

"Shoot, I forgot." Startling, Tarisilya covered her mouth with her hand. "I need to go! I need to find brightherb for my brother."

"You mean that?" With Tarisilya‘s watching him, astonished, Legolas got some blossoms of a snow-white flower from his tent that he’d stumbled upon when fishing by the shore in the last of daylight earlier, and held them out to her. "Please, take them. They probably would have withered on the way home anyway. That way at least, they fulfill a last purpose before they go."

"Thank you." The bright moon light revealed Tarisilya’s blush when she reached for the unexpected gift and grazed Legolas‘ skin for a moment. Carefully, her fingertips stroked one of the undamaged star shaped blooms. "Tegiend can be so clumsy. He’s gotten injured training with Haldir. His admiration for Haldir’s skills sometimes distracts him so much that he forgets about his own. As long as he’s losing focus so quickly, it’s too early for him to become a warden, but he just won’t admit that. Well, he’ll be in bed now for a while instead of the barracks. He loves the smell of brightherb. I’ll put it on his bedside so he’ll recover faster."

"I’m sure he’ll be delighted. You should hurry though. A young elf shouldn’t be out here alone at this time."

"In Lórien, nothing bad can happen. Lady Galadriel is taking care of us." Tarisilya stashed the herb in a pouch on her belt and got up on her mare’s bare back. "These woods are untouchable."

"That’s what my father thought about Greenwood the Great," Legolas replied softly.

"Don’t worry." She gifted him with a last smile. "Once the moon rises, I’m not worried about my welfare. It’s protecting me and giving me strength. I wish you a safe journey home, Legolas of Mirkwood." Already on her way west, she turned around, her cheeks blushing once more. "I hope you’ll seek shelter from the rain in Golden Wood again soon."

"Where have you been all evening? Ada is looking for you." Both annoyed and worried, Tegiend sat up in his bed when he heard Tarisilya’s light-footed steps on the stairs leading to their common chambers. Usually their father would have been in this talan as well, that fortunately offered enough space for the three of them, built on one of the largest trees of Caras Galadhon, right next to the one that Lord Celeborn with his wife lived in. Tarisilya was only lucky that Vandrin was busy with party preparations or she would have come home to a much angrier welcome.

"I know you’re there, stop the nonsense." When Tarisilya didn’t show up in the door, Tegiend tried to sit up further but fell back onto the mattress when one of his broken rips throbbed in protest. Heavens, he would never be training with a warden again … at least not without armor.

"When did you unlearn how to take a joke?" Pouting, Tarisilya scurried over to his bed, one hand behind her back, a mischievous grin on her face.

Tegiend‘s fine sense of smell told him what she had brought before she could show it. "You’re a fool, riding out that far just for this." He smacked the back of her head softly. "And the best sister anyone can wish for," he quickly added when he saw her disappointed face.

With her smile already back, Tarisilya put the brightherb on his nightstand and hugged him, with regard to his injury only softly. Her healer instincts were developed well enough already to rein in her cockiness, Vandrin had made very sure of that. "I need to tell you something."

"I knew that since you came storming in here, chuckling like an elfling," Tegiend teased her. "Put on something dry first, Ilya. If ada sees you like that …"

"I know." With a deep sigh, Tarisilya started to look around in their closet, where nearly every single piece could be found twice. Even when Tegiend and her had been little, they had always insisted on wearing the same things, to underline their big resemblance. Tarisilya happened to be fragile by nature, and like most female elves in their youth, she had not developed much of a shape yet. She still matched his height too, so they had been able to keep to that beloved tradition. It was another day for her to end up in one of his tunics, and in her impatience, she nearly made it to tear two buttons off.

"What’s his name?"

"What? _Ow_!" Tarisilya got up quickly, forgetting about of the shelf in the closet and promptly hit her head. "How did you know …?"

"I know that dreamy look on your face, sis." Tegiend waited for her to be back by his side and rested a fingertip on her wrist, just like he had seen her and his father do that when they were treating patients. "And your heart is racing. You want to tell me now, another elf of Lórien is crazy enough to go for a ride at this time? Who is it, how does he look, how old is he? What does he do? Is he taking good care of you?"

"Hey, little brother, how about you let me get to know him first before you start to cross-question him?" Embarrassed, Tarisilya hid behind some of her long brunette strands.

"You’re five minutes older than me, so don’t get cocky," Tegiend returned their usual joke.

"You still didn’t answer me. Where were you? Ada searched half of the city for you."

"By the edge of the river. I wanted to see something new." Tarisilya drew her shoulders close, sensing the upcoming storm on his face.

"You always do what you want anyway." His lips tight, Tegiend let go of her hand. "But if you do insist on visiting the most dangerous area of this realm, at least do it in the daylight."

"Dangerous why? Because it's close to Mirkwood? You’re afraid of the elves there too?" Unfortunately, Vandrin had not quite succeeded yet in teaching Tarisilya restraint and consideration. Her impertinence had earned her one or the other reprimand from the wardens before, even some of Lady Galadriel herself who just like Lord Celeborn, kept close contact to Vandrin. These kind of admonitions usually helped for at least five minutes. "I’m sorry." Now, too, she immediately lowered her head when the corners of Tegiend’s mouth dropped.

"I’m just worried about you. Think about that when you join the others, will you?"

"I’m not going. I’m staying with you."

"You've upset ada enough today as it is. You want him to put up with everyone asking why you’re not sitting at Galadriel’s table?" Tegiend asked, gently. "Thank you for your concern, but I’m tired anyway. I would only bore you with my snore."

"You don’t snore." She forced a smile on her lips though she obviously hated the thought of another dreary celebration. For Tarisilya, an evening like that would once more bring nothing but interested looks from a lot of other young elves, which, understandably, she wasn’t too fond of. "Fine. But only because you’re asking me to."

"Not so fast." Tegiend held on to a tail of her tunic when she started to get up, just as quickly as before. "What about that elf? You didn’t tell me his name. Will he be at the party?"

"I don’t know his name."

Tegiend immediately felt that was Tarisilya was lying. A keen talent for the ability of seeing what was going on in other beings' minds, that he had inherited from their mother, connected their hearts and often let him see Tarisilya’s thoughts.

"He is … not from here," she added, hesitatingly. "He was just traveling by."

Tegiend eyed her sharply and then turned away, disappointed. It was the first time his sister was keeping secrets from him. That hurt. And still it was normal, he would have to get used to it. Someday their ways would part, a procedure especially hurtful for twins that would bring them back together closer in the end though.

"Then I hope you’re going to see him again soon," he somehow gritted out, though he was already cursing that elf, whoever had made Tarisilya start to finally grow up. At some point in every elf’s life, another love than the one to their family was taking the most important place. That was just the way of things.

"You’re the best." Tarisilya was already back to looking radiant. "What can I wear tonight? You have to help me or I’ll never be ready in time." She ran over to the closet and right back again. "Just a second. Hair!"

"Oh, Ilya, not today," Tegiend moaned, exasperated. "Have mercy with the seriously injured."

"If you hadn’t run into Haldir’s sword, you’d be alright," Tarisilya responded, quite unkind. Laying down right beside him, making sure they were on the same level, her sharp eyes measured the length of his hair against hers. "You’re still ahead,” she realized, disappointed. "That’s unfair! I’ll ask Lady Galadriel for a hair spell. It worked for Lúthien."

"Don’t you dare. At least don’t embarrass ada this once a year." Tegiend‘s dug his elbow into her rips so she would get up. "Get moving, short stuff. The others are waiting for you."

"On it." Still grumbling to herself, she started to search the closet once more.

"Do you think he minds it that his hair is much longer than mine?" She felt the draught of a pillow hurled at her head early enough to dodge, this time without hitting her head.

"She’s becoming a real flower, Vandrin." When Tarisilya entered the huge hall in the center of Caras Galdhon – at least almost punctual –, she was easily turning every head in the room. Galadriel was not the only one to smile at the sight of the very shy looking elf in her loosely tailored red dress. "Old enough to be picked, as you should have noticed. Her cheeks are flushed."

"She’s too young for that." Vandrin had never been one to easily get rattled. An impressive sight around here from the start of this realm, tall like his kids but a lot stronger built, with square features, piercing eyes that had seen millennia of war and peace, and a voice that knew how to make people listen, Vandrin had nothing to hide compared to personalities like Celeborn’s. That he had kept out of active battle most of the time, in favor of his profession, couldn’t change that.

It was that very reputation of steadiness that had one or the other guest at the table clear their throat in sympathy, when this elf of all people aimed quite the mistrustful look at Tarisilya, in spite of his own words. His face grew even stricter when his daughter nodded at him with a badly executed curtsy. "She’s nothing but a child."

"Not for long, mellon."

Galadriel dropped the subject with a lenient smile and turned to Haldir, raising her chin to motion him to speak.

The warrior had joined the table minutes ago already with a respectful bow, silently, his arms stiffly crossed behind his back, waiting for whatever report he had to make. His appearance didn't give away the little quarrel with Tarisilya’s brother in the afternoon. His silver and white armor already was polished back into shine, the torn clothes underneath traded for new ones. Haldir had not been assigned to the wardens for long and took his duties very seriously.

"I thought you would surely want to know that we have an unexpected guest, milady. The Crown Prince of Mirkwood has set up tent close to the border." Though Haldir did his best to keep his voice neutral, every attentive elf could notice his aggression, badly hidden behind carefulness. Elves of Mirkwood were never a sight too welcome in Lórien.

"Surprising but not of significance, guard. Thank you for your mindfulness though. Go back to your patrol."

Probably just Vandrin by her side and her husband were able to tell that Galadriel’s eyes narrowed for a moment. And that her hand had a too tight grip on her glass when she put it down before the tremble couldn’t give her away. Even animosities not started by yourself, at some point became a shadow on the soul.

"Now that our last guest has arrived, let us begin." When she got up and raised her voice to that striking tone that allowed her to set herself apart from many other female elves, she had already disregarded the quick moment of weakness.

While the inside of the richly decorated celebration talan with all those marble tables and the silver painted walls mirrored the joy of the occasion, outside, there was no jollity to be seen. Plain grey walls and a narrow wooden terrace without a balustrade providing a view west, allowed seclusion from too loud music, from too much merriment, when the own heart was longing for silence.

It was a place very suitable for conversation of crisis as well.

"It is nothing, ada." Sighing, Tarisilya leaned against the door, backing away from Vandrin, from his explorative looks that seemed to see into her very soul. She could just hope that he wouldn’t ask. She didn’t want to share with him what she had experienced earlier. Maybe she would never see Legolas again, and then she’d have worried her family for nothing. That the thought provoked pain in her heart, she only realized when she was not able to fight it anymore.

"I’m sorry I wasn’t here in time. It will not happen again." She couldn’t help but wonder if Legolas who had to be a great deal older than her, had to come up with embarrassing apologies like that for Thranduil.

When her father’s critical observation got unbearable, she stepped forward to the edge of the platform and looked up to the moon. Usually its face always comforted her when she felt treated unfairly. Today it didn’t help. How she wished once again that her mother wouldn't have had to leave them so early. She surely would have understood, unlike her much too strict father.

"I miss her too, Ilya." Vandrin lovingly put his arm around her shoulders. "I always tried to be there for you like she should have been. She promised to watch over you when she would reach the Halls of Mandos, until maybe one day we all can be together again. She’s here for you, you just need to believe in it."

Relieved because Vandrin seemed to think that her mother was the reason for her being such a mess, Tarisilya returned his embrace. It was a weird night, the first of its kind that she experienced in her 70 years, but she would always remember it kindly.

She hoped that this slightly eccentric and still, in an inapprehensible way, very charming elf out there in his tent would do the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * ada = father  
> * mellon = friend


	3. Chapter 3

_T.A. 2071_

"What are we doing out here this far, Ilya? Ada will kill me first, and then you if he learns about this."

"Will you _please_ stop whining? You were never such a wuss in your training." Irritated, Tarisilya got up and moved away a few steps to escape Tegiend’s accusations. She had covered for him often enough in the past when he had been up to some nonsense. Was it asked too much of him to spend a day supporting her now for once?

Or maybe three. Or four.

Was it really the fifth time for them to be on the road already? Gritting her teeth, she kicked a young tree trunk and was promptly rewarded with a hurting foot when the wood turned out to be more massive than expected.

"You deserved that one." Scowling, Tegiend rubbed his side which was still giving him trouble, though Tarisilya had allowed him two full months of recovery before asking him to escort her to the edge of Mirkwood. That was what you got for not listening to your healers and trying to leave bed way too early instead: falling and cracking one of your healing ribs again. "At least tell me what you’re up to here."

"I’ll explain later," she promised, with her prettiest innocent look.

Where in the world was Ania? She had sent her mare off into the woods hours ago. In the morning, that had seemed like a glorious idea, one she should have already had when they’d first come here, but now she regretted it. Maybe the animal had gotten lost, and Tarisilya would have to enter the woods herself to find it after all. Then she would get into trouble, no doubt.

Since the skies were already darkening again, unfortunately, she didn’t have a choice. There didn’t seem to be any sunshine this close to Dol Guldur, at least not longer than for a few minutes. If there was a storm coming, they had to get home quickly, or their father would know that they had been in the forbidden region.

"See? There she is." Relieved, Tarisilya ran to Ania when the horse finally left some overgrown wooden path and neared the twins in a soft trot, with her head low.

"She’s tired." Tegiend wasn’t done with unnecessary remarks for the day. "You shouldn’t ask so much of her. She’s getting old."

"Know-it-all. As long as she can steal cookies from my bag when I‘m picking her hooves, she’s fit enough to run through the forest for a while."

With her heart pounding, Tarisilya started searching for a sign, for some clue that her call had been received. She’d even put a saddle on Ania’s back today, though she hadn’t needed one for years, but the firm leather was still in place. Disappointed, she caressed Ania’s narrow blaze. "It’s alright, sweetie. Couldn’t have worked right away."

Maybe she should just ride into the Woodland Elves‘ realm after all. She just had to come up with some excuse for Tegiend and her to leave home for a few days. After all, she’d already made it to sneak up on Legolas. Maybe they could make it past the guards too …

Sighing, she leaned against the saddle, knocked her forehead against it a few times. What had this encounter done to her to suddenly make her that delusional? Fool a Mirkwood marchwarden, sure! When those were about as friendly as Haldir who’d regarded Tegiend‘s training injury with hardly more than a raised eyebrow … All she would achieve was a dishonorable capture, ending up in a probably very uncomfortable, dirty dungeon cell and then being dragged home by her father in chains. All of thar for an elf of whom she didn’t even know what she wanted from him.

Frustrated, she reached for Ania‘s reins to mount. Something fell to the ground, that had been stuck under the loose knot that Tarisilya had tied around the horn, to prevent the animal from stumbling over the headgear. Her heart pounding even faster than before, she bent over.

A dried brightherb blossom. There was no brightherb in this area. Especially not dried one.

"My dear brother …"

"Whatever it is: no." Tegiend untied his gelding from a nearby tree and got up on its back, no longer willing to compromise. "We’re going back now, and you will forget whatever is going on in your head. I want to join the guard, Ilya! I can’t risk someone catching us out here, or they’ll think I’m not composed and rational enough."

"You don’t have to stay here." She tried that puppy eyed look again, usually he couldn’t resist that. "I’ll follow you in an hour, I promise. Wait for me by the edge of Lórien."

"Are you completely out of your mind? You really think I’m going to leave you alone in an area that can be stormed by a bunch of orcs anytime?"

"Orcs usually only come at night, don’t they? And I won’t be alone," Tarisilya added after a moment of hesitation. Her brother needed to know about this if she wanted him as an accomplice against her father’s stubbornness and over-carefulness. "Tegiend, please."

"I’ll stay close, just so you know." Again, that strained expression that Tarisilya had first seen on Tegiend’s face a few weeks ago, after meeting Legolas for the first time.

Something that she did was hurting him, but as long as he didn’t tell her what it was, she couldn’t change that.

And right now, admittedly, her head was full with other things. The horse on that very same wooden path for example, that Ania had just left. "I’m happy to see, my message has been received."

"You have heart, coming here, I have to give you that." Tarisilya recognized the chestnut stallion immediately that Legolas approached her on. It was the same he’d brought when coming to the borders of Lórien.

That was all she recognized though. With clean, bright clothes, neat hair and without that disgusting tent to sleep in, he suddenly looked all different. The daylight did the rest. She had not expected his eyes to be of such a piercing ocean blue.

"Since you didn’t come back, I had to take matters into my own hands." She hid behind Ania a little, peering across the obstacle of the saddle to carefully blink at the elf whom she just couldn’t stop thinking of for weeks now.

The daunting tales she’d been fed when casually asking her father and Lady Galadriel about Mirkwood, had not changed that. On the contrary, their words had made her angry. The experience of millennia, but the inhabitants of Lórien had learned nothing? If it really was true that Sauron had power even after his death, and that someday, he would begin with new attacks, then all the elves had to stand together. What good would it do then, clinging to hate that had long lost any basis?

As if to confirm that opinion, she came out from behind her horse and handed the brightherb bloom over. "I believe, this is yours, Legolas."

"Milady …" With an exaggerated little bow, he let Tarisilya know that he cared just as little about polite forms of address as she did. "We should not stay here. Many dangers are poisoning this area."

"I doubt, someone would be courageous enough to attack the Prince of Mirkwood," Tarisilya remarked, shyly. "I heard some impressive tales about your heroic deeds."

"Along with a lot of reasons why high walls should be built between Lórien and Mirkwood, so no elf can ever cross the border again," Legolas replied joylessly. "As you wish. I don’t have much time anyway. My father is probably already looking for me."

"And my brother will lead me back home in chains if we don’t get going soon," Tarisilya added. "Why is this so complicated?"

"Let’s not talk about it out here in the open." Legolas sent his horse off with a gentle dab to its croup, leaving it to graze on the clearing close by, then expertly jumped onto the thick limb of a beech, one of the few very tall trees in this area.

Tarisilya’s riding dress kept her from climbing just as quickly. She soon wished, she still would be young enough to wear pants, without her father calling her mannish.

The effort was worth it though, at the latest when she settled on a strong limb crossways under Legolas, in the shadow of the greenery, so he wouldn’t notice her sneaking glances at him. "You love nature very much, don’t you?” She realized immediately how he melted into the surroundings, how comfortable he was up here, as if the tree and him were one.

"As much as you are connected to the moon. I wish our people could see those similarities instead of ranting about differences.” Like Tegiend, Legolas had a talent for changing a pleasant subject to an uncomfortable one within half a sentence.

Tarisilya pouted, but of course she was aware that they wouldn’t be able to meet in tree tops forever. "I could talk to Lady Galadriel. She always supported my family."

"Useless, at least right now. My father is too busy with the dangers threatening our realm to think about anything else." With just as much care as he had used picking that brightherb, as if his tender touch was asking the beech for permission, he plucked a small leaf from a twig and thoughtfully started to nibble on the stalk.

"Besides I’d like to avoid angering Lady Galadriel. She’s a very formidable elf even for many in Mirkwood. There’s reasons, my father and her don’t get along. Reasons that objections of some kids won’t change."

" _Kids_." Tarisilya blew her bangs back from her face, so she could see him better, the annoyed flash in her eyes revealing how she felt about that estimation. "I’m a grown up! I can decide for myself whom I want to meet!"

"Many elves who have been living in these realms for millennia would disagree." Legolas‘ quickly raised his hand, trying to put that disagreement to rest. "I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m just asking you to keep up the discretion. I’ll come to our clearing in Lórien as often as my time allows, but for now, no one needs to know about that."

"Will you really come? I’ve been waiting for you in vain before." Startled by her own words, she bit her lip. Had she just said that? If she let him know how she kept on hanging about the edge of the woods, hoping to hear the voice of his horse nearby, he would think, she had nothing better to do. That she indeed was nothing but a child, fascinated by the words of some stranger.

Fortunately, Legolas didn’t seem to take it that way. "I wasn’t sure you would. I’ve been waiting for a sign like you sent it earlier. My father is probably wondering why I keep spending my spare time in the woods. I’m just lucky, he gave up on trying to forbid me anything about two millennia ago, as long as it isn’t concerning our soldiers."

"I wish I was that lucky." Tarisilya let out a deep, heavy sigh. What would Vandrin have to say about her sitting here with an elf whose people held such deep enmity for hers?

And Legolas‘ explanation made her realize, they were even more different than she had thought. Had he really said ’millennia’? "Did you live to witness the War of the Last Alliance? All of this …” She pointed at his bow and the dagger on his belt. "You look like you’re expecting a fight any minute."

"Mirkwood is not a place, one can travel unarmed." Pain again on his beautiful symmetric features with these prominent cheekbones, when he talked about the darkness that surrounded his home. A darkness to be felt even here, at the edge. The missing song of the birds, the cold air, the ever overcast sky, the beginning dusk, much too early … Something evil was in the air. One didn’t need to live here to know.

"But the last big war, I missed by a heartbeat as ada likes to put it." Anger, clearly aimed at Thranduil, colored those words, disappointed hope, a painful grief that had not skipped the next generation. "Though I have my doubts that there’s much I missed. But it’s good to be prepared. Someday …" He shook his head. "This is not a time to talk about such unpleasant things. Tell me, Tarisilya …"

"Ilya." She interrupted him quickly, shuddering. "My friends call me Ilya. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t dislike my name, but I’m not insisting on hearing it in full length."

"Ilya it is." Finally, there was that smile again, a gesture seldom for him, she had already realized that, and it was all the more enchanting when he allowed it. "It’s your turn to answer a question now."

"Only when it’s not rude. Though I reckon, being a Prince, you’re used to getting everything you want ..."

She wasn’t being serious, but he was making a face anyway. "I suggest, we switch places for a day. You’d be fleeing with flying flags. I’m just happy that my father won’t be thinking of retiring anytime soon, maybe never. A thousand years would still be too soon for me to wear that damn crown."

The sound interrupting his next words had Tarisilya startle, so much that she nearly toppled over. The scream of an elf.

"Tegiend!" For a moment she felt paralyzed, completely unable to react.

Before she could even think of calling for her brother, there was another noise, one a lot more threatening. The growling of several wargs.

In a single leap, Legolas was on the ground and whistled his horse over. "Stay here."

When Tarisilya made a move to follow him, a snort on her lips, his eyes were ablaze with irritation. "I said, _stay here_. You are not throwing yourself into some fight and get yourself killed! I might not be able to take care of both of you.”

"But it’s my fault this is happening," Tarisilya shouted, her voice rough with tears of worry. "I shouldn’t have brought Tegiend along. He’s still injured …"

"If he is, that was irresponsible indeed. But that cannot be helped now, so don’t make it even worse. Stay and hide. Climb higher." Without looking back, Legolas mounted his steed and left in a quick gallop, heading for the battle noise.

He had chosen a very bad time to let that unbearable arrogance show through again. Tarisilya stared at him angrily. He couldn’t just leave her here like an elfling … Quickly she realized though, that she would probably be only in his way. He didn’t carry that bow just for fun. He could handle it. She couldn’t.

And he was worried about her. In spite of his hurtful remark about Tegiend, that feeling settled deeply inside Tarisilya’s heart and begrudgingly made her obey. Trembling, she hugged her knees close to her body, her nails digging into her forearms. Waiting had never felt so awful.

They had come fast and without mercy.

Just when Tegiend had decided to go look for Tarisilya, his willingness to be considerate fading by the minute, they had appeared, right out of the underwood. Thanks to the howling of the same storm that had urged Tegiend to start on the way home, he’d heard their growls much too late.

There were three full-grown wargs, each of them nearly as big as a horse. Even for a well-trained elf, a sight to recoil from, and it had immediately scared off Tegiend's gelding. With long, sinewy legs, a massive torso, countless keratinized spikes on their back and a huge mouth full of fangs, wargs weren’t only dangerous as rides for orcs but also as hunters. Deadly, for everyone who couldn’t defend themselves. A single prey without a long distance weapon was among those pitiful creatures.

Still Tegiend’s first thought when the animals cornered him was Tarisilya who was way too close and would probably become the next victim of these beasts. He tried his best to warn her in his mind, but his mental abilities were way too underdeveloped for that, he lacked concentration. And his loud, warning call turned into a scream when one of the wargs jumped at him and sharp claws grazed his back before he’d even brought his sword around.

Trying to turn, to use his weapon effectively failed when the claws dug deeper into his body, while the second animal already neared him. Tegiend gave up trying to hurt the leader and brought his arms around instead, his strength already weakening. His blade stabbed the second warg’s throat and left its body at the other side, dripping with blood.

Rapidly growing pain tore another scream from his lips.

He’d made it to anger the pack leader. Its claws drilled ever deeper into his flesh, leaving a trail of destruction. Wargs were far more intelligent than most animals. The leader would enjoy seeing Tegiend suffer. It lowered its slobbering mouth to Tegiend’s sword arm, to eliminate that marginal threat before it could harm another member of the pack.

Before the beast could bite him, a long arrow pierced his body right in the middle. With a chocked wheeze, the warg fell to its side, halfway onto its victim. With its last twitch, its claws caused further injury.

Tegiend hardly felt it. The agony was already claiming his consciousness.

"You fought bravely, mellon. You’re as courageous as your sister.” Legolas bent over Tegiend‘s bloodstained silhouette in distress, certain that no one could survive wounds like that. Astonished, he found Tegiend still breathing, and somewhat steadily too. Maybe no damage to the lungs after all.

"Run back to that elf, quickly!" he shouted at Bellar.

Another creature that had surprised him in this fight. The stallion had not even flinched when the third warg had advanced Legolas after its leader’s death, before succumbing to an arrow as well. There was far more about Bellar than Legolas had suspected. He should remember more often how misleading first impressions could be.

"If we can get him some help, he’ll make it," he called to Tarisilya when she joined him on her mare, in a hard gallop. She had understood the message then. Communicating by their horses started to work out pretty well for them. It was sad enough, having to resort to means like that. "We‘ll take him to my father. Our healers …"

"That takes too long." Tarisilya jumped to the ground before Ania had even fully stopped, fell to her knees next to her brother and quickly caressed his pale cheek before she laid down beside him, braced on one elbow. Running both hands over his wounds, slowly and explorative, she checked on every damaged inch of flesh.

"Try to find some athelas, Legolas, please. I’ve seen some nearby. And whatever other plants and roots might help." Given the anger and self-reproaches still darkening her face, Tarisilya suddenly sounded remarkably calm.

Legolas quickly realized that he was in the presence of an experienced healer, which should not surprise him as much as it did. There was no doubt, Tarisilya had learned this art from her father. What she definitely was not though, was a warrior. Which in her case was definitely wise. Right now though, her lack of skill created another conflict. "You can’t stay here alone. More wargs could come."

"I have that." Bitterly, she pointed at Tegiend's red stained sword. "The animals are scared off, they won’t return so quickly. Hurry, then nothing will happen to me."

The rest of his objections, she didn’t even seem to hear. From one moment to another, she channeled all her thoughts and feelings into her abilities, it was like she didn’t even notice Legolas anymore. With her fragile body, she covered her brother’s like a blanket, as if her presence alone could help heal his wounds. Her hand was on the bare skin shining through Tegiend’s torn tunic, blood dripped over it nonstop.

Legolas pushed his confusion aside and fulfilled her wish, as little as he liked it. He left her in considerable danger, they both knew it. But she would never have forgiven him for not trying to save her brother.

Only when Legolas returned from a moderately successful ride through the surrounding area, he understood why she had really sent him away.

Tegiend’s bleedings had lessened, some had stopped completely. The others, Tarisilya had already bandaged. The elf was breathing a lot steadier before. The way he was lying there, covered by Tarisilya’s long cloak, one could nearly think, he was just asleep.

His sister fared arguably worse. Tarisilya was lying on her side, breathing heavily, her arms tightly wrapped around her own body.

For a moment, Legolas paused when he was about to bend down to her. The way she was resting there, stomach to stomach with her brother, their faces just inches apart … The few small differences in their round features at first sight hardly showed. They seemed to be one being more than two. And it was not Legolas‘ place, to come between them. Nothing but grief would come from that. He would have to be very careful.

"Spare me the bad excuse next time you want to send me away. You thought I couldn’t stand watching?" He helped Tarisilya to sit up and handed her the long leaves she’d been asking for.

"I needed privacy. Healing in a way like this is always a burden, it’s drawing a lot of energy. But it’s also the greatest gift an elf can have. Tegiend will be alright, that’s all that counts. And those will ease the way home. Thank you." Only when Tarisilya had bandaged Tegiend’s wounds again, the linen soaked with essence of the herbs this time, she allowed herself the support of Legolas‘ arm around her shoulder, until her body wasn’t acting up anymore.

"Can you ride? The storm is getting worse. I want to get away from this place as fast as possible."

"You don’t have to come with me the whole way. Once Tegiend wakes up, we’ll be fine." It was only reluctant that Tarisilya let Legolas help her mount her horse.

"We’ll stay together as long as necessary," Legolas replied, defensively. Taking Tegiend‘s lifeless body in front of him on Bellar, he made sure with another quick glance to the side that Tarisilya was strong enough for the trip. That she wasn’t overestimating herself again, like when she had wanted to run right into a battle.

He dictated a trot that wouldn’t be as exhausting for the she-elf as a hard gallop and still take them where they needed to go.

Darkness was arising when they reached the protection of the Lórien woods, after a long ride in silence, where, fortunately, Tegiend's gelding was already waiting for them. The harmless conversation that for a few minutes, had let both Tarisilya and Legolas forget where they were coming from, seemed outrageously thoughtless in the light of what had happened afterwards.

So Tarisilya was not surprised about Legolas saying good-bye as soon as Tegiend seemed to come about. He helped her dismount and carefully put her brother down on the floor, Tegiend‘s head resting on her thighs now. Her, he didn’t touch again.

"Not what I had in mind, going on this trip," she murmured, unhappily. "I’m sorry you had to get involved in a fight. Are you sure nothing happened to you?"

"I don’t bruise easily, Ilya." An unexpected smile, it looked genuine. "Bring your brother home. And don’t forget my promise."

"You mean, you still want …?" Surprised, she looked up, beaming. "I will be there."

"Thank you for the honor of your visit, Tarisilya Vandriniel." Legolas got his horse going and disappeared within seconds.

"I hope it’s me you’re thinking of with that longing look on your face, sis." The exciting moment ended with Tegiend’s weak voice in her ear.

"I was so worried!“ Relieved, she pressed a kiss to his forehead. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I want to lock you up for your stupidity for the rest of your life," he grumbled, awake enough to be complaining already. "I’m never taking another ride with you." With Tarisilya’s help, he managed to sit up and leaned back against a trunk, against one of the few places on his back not torn open by claws.

"I thought you had better taste, Ilya. If it has to be an elf of Mirkwood you fall in love with, couldn’t you have picked one with manners? One who at least introduces himself after saving me from wild beasts?"

"I am not in love with him," she denied immediately. "I am not young enough to dive headfirst into what is nothing more than a little star in the sky that might be falling anytime. If that star stays where it is though, and keeps its shine, you’ll be the first to know, I promise."

Tegiend seemed to understand that for the moment, he wouldn’t learn more than that there was a very dauntless elf who had saved him from certain death and who one day might play an important role in Tarisilya’s life. He didn’t press the subject.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awyis, finally my boi Thranduil shows up for the first time. Of all the stuff in those million words this series has, I've always had most fun writing him. That's some A+ parenting going on here. Again, keep in mind the Hobbit movies do not come into play here since most of this series was written before those even existed.

"There's a rise in the frequency of evenings that you’re neglecting your duties on, ion nín."

Legolas should just bury the hope of passing by his father’s chambers unseen at least once in his long life. One would think, the Elvenking's Halls were large enough to avoid running into each other. Yet Legolas never made it to scurry through all of the hidden halls without one of his father’s servants noticing and immediately giving away his arrival.

"I will catch up tomorrow with what didn't get done. Please forgive that my thoughts keep on straying. I’ve reached a point where I want to know more about the world outside."

"I never forbade that, Legolas. I just don’t want you to do it in secret."

Thranduil left the shadows of the corridor, seizing Legolas‘ bloodstained tunic and breeches with narrow eyes. "Who got hurt?"

"Two men were attacked by wargs at the edge of the wood." Amazing how easily some lies did escape Legolas’ lips lately, that he would have been ashamed of in the past. Nowadays, he knew them to be a necessity, to not jangle Thranduil’s nerves … or his own. As long as there was nothing to say, he would not tell him about his new acquaintance, it really was that simple.

That he still felt bad about it, was easiest to forget in his own chambers, the only place where he allowed himself to think of that certain Lórien elf who was responsible for that conflict in the first place.

If Thranduil realized he was being lied to, he didn’t comment on it, but Legolas‘ thought to see the hint of a shadow in his eyes. Just one of the features his father had passed on to him. The same hair, and this tall, drawn-out shape – physically they couldn’t be more alike. One or the other trait that Legolas would prefer not to have and still couldn’t get rid of, as well was a result of Thranduil’s education.

There wasn’t much left in these halls reminding him of his mother, and still it was these moments when Legolas missed her most, when the feeling of being unable to share certain things with Thranduil overcame him. For that kind of conversation, they were too different after all.

"I apologize for upsetting you." He finally caught up on the bow he had forgotten in his surprise about that ambush from the dark. "If you allow, I shall retire now."

"I expect your presence at tomorrow’s audience. Get a change of clothes until then, if it's not too much of an inconvenience. One could think you’re busy with nothing but hunting orcs these days." His lips tight, Thranduil turned away. The perfectly curved sliding of his long robe over the floor emphasized the reprimand.

Legolas forced himself to take a deep breath and let his anger recoil off him, like he had learned it early to keep his soul clean and open. Some things just couldn‘t be changed. It was useless, getting worked up over them. Thranduil and him just didn’t have much to say to each other recently. Maybe it indeed was time for one or the other long journey. A little bit of distance would strengthen the bonds between them.

And such trips would offer enough chances to stop by the woods of Lórien.

The stalactites growing on the walls revealed a broad smile on Legolas‘ lips to any possible watcher when he headed for his chambers, in a lively, light stride. Elves were gifted by nature with movements that left no trace, and knew how to move soundlessly. But tonight, for the first time, the unique levity of a new chapter in his life made Legolas feel like he could actually fly.

"Isn’t the weather a little unpleasant for a stroll outside, child of the moon?"

Cursing soundlessly and not very ladylike, Tarisilya stopped. How? She had been so careful! And certain that at this time of the day, the always-busy Lady of Lórien would partake in the usual meeting, therefore no path to the stables could be more secret than the one through her garden.

Since Tegiend and Tarisilya had come home that one day looking like they had been dining with orcs, hard pressed to explain what had happened, Vandrin watched his offspring with an eagle eye. He was perfectly aware that Tarisilya was up to something. But today, his presence was required at said meeting as well and he had left the talan early – a hint of fate, it would seem.

And then you got caught by the one person who would immediately blab it to your father, for educative reasons alone. Too often for Tarisilya's taste, Lady Galadriel mistook her role as a family friend for the one of a foster mother. Maybe she was feeling bored because her own daughter Celebrían had married Lord Elrond and moved to Imladris half an eternity ago.

Tarisilya was not willing to fill those shoes. "I need to exercise Ania for a while. She’s getting too chubby." Inconspicuously, she checked the ground, desperately searching for a hole to open up and swallow her, because Galadriel’s pitying smile left no doubt that she didn’t believe one word. Since Tarisilya received no answer though, she quickly carried on.

"Ania is getting weary. If you want to keep on using rides as an excuse to meet someone in secret, you‘ll have to look for a new horse," Galadriel called when Tarisilya had already vanished behind the next available tree.

For a second time, she paused, carefully poking her head around the trunk to make sure, Vandrin wasn’t anywhere near to hear treacherous remarks like that.

No, Lady Galadriel was still alone, perched on one of the stairs, watching her fosterling from above the edge of a fragile cup in her hand. "Weren’t you leaving?"

Tarisilya hesitated. Leaving now would only have delayed that unavoidable conversation. She should have known that the master of reading minds long knew about that thing between Legolas and her. Though there wasn’t even anything to speak of. Not yet, at least. Tarisilya had not yet learned how to protect her thoughts from invasion. An unerring instinct told her that with such a powerful elf, every attempt at that was useless anyway.

"Will you tell my father?" she asked after long seconds of silence.

"You'll have to do that yourself, child of the moon. Unless you want to spend the next few centuries straying through the rain.” For Galadriel, the discussion was over. Her thoughts already seemed to linger with Lord Celeborn who had just emerged at the top of the stairs.

"I’ll tell him," Tarisilya assured, relieved. "When the right time comes." Already half way gone, she spontaneously ran back to fling her arms around Lady Galadriel's neck, which nearly sent the other elf flying after she had just got up. "Thank you."

Blushing, she stepped back. That had been highly inappropriate, regardless of Lady Galadriel bottle-feeding her as a baby. This whole thing with Legolas just threw her completely off balance.

Galadriel’s usually rather distanced smile fortunately didn’t falter. Tarisilya could swear, it had even grown. At least half an inch. "The meeting with your father will not end later than lunch."

A small time frame then. At least that wasn’t anything new for them. It was unlikely anyway that Legolas would be visiting this area today of all days. But at least she had a chance now. Tarisilya silently vowed to never have bad thoughts towards Lady Galadriel again. She showed her prettiest curtsy and then stormed away so quickly that she managed to scare off a few birds who flew up, chirping loudly in protest.

This time, Tarisilya had remembered to cover Ania with a silver blanket, made of the same weather resistant fabric that tailors in Lórien used to make coats for wanderers and warriors. On their last ride, the mare had caught a cold; Tarisilya did not want to risk that again.

Unfortunately, she didn’t have such a luxury herself. She could only retreat into the top of one of those mellyrn that formed a boundary-post right by the Celebrant, the highest in the area. Now she had a good view on the surroundings, but it still was ghastly clammy.

"Remind me why I’m doing this to myself," she shouted at Ania, wringing her hair out for the third time, which had started to cling to her head, stringy and unattractive.

"I could think of a reason or two."

"What in the …?" Tarisilya nearly fell from the slick limb she had just gotten somewhat comfortable on, looking around hectically. That had been his warm, soft voice, no doubt, she had already memorized that when they had first met. But she had been observing the area the whole time, so where was he? Apparently, her father wasn't wrong about her elven senses not being half as keen yet as they should be.

The most obvious solution, she only thought of after embarrassing herself. "You can be a real pain, Legolas Thranduilion, you know that?" Furiously, Tarisilya peeked around the thick trunk. Indeed she found the elf who was haunting her dreams for weeks now, sitting on an opposite limb. "How long have you been here?"

"Since last night." He couldn't stop grinning. "I was beginning to worry that I would miss you. I am off to Imladris soon. Looks like we'll have to cut this short again."

"It seems to be our fate." Since Legolas made no move to join her, Tarisilya climbed around the trunk. Her bright red skirt kept on getting caught on twigs and the rough surface of the bark. "The Valar invented dresses only to punish us she-elves," she growled when she could finally sit down next to Legolas. "Are you enjoying to see me suffer? Or did you get your clothes so dirty again that they're stuck to that limb?"

"Cheeky again. You want me to leave?" Faking offense, Legolas pretended to climb down.

"Don’t you dare." Grabbing the collar of his travel cloak, Tarisilya hugged him just as spontaneously as Lady Galadriel earlier, before even realizing what she was doing. Usually she would have been uncomfortable with a touch like that from anyone but her family. With Legolas … things were different. It was just like fooling around with Tegiend. Well, maybe not quite like that.

Especially since she immediately felt Legolas going tense when she was suddenly close enough to him to breathe the earthly note of his beautiful gold blond hair, to feel the traces of rain on his cheek.

"You must think so badly of me." Abashed suddenly, she backed off and in a small act of balance, crossed her legs on the limb. "I am not immoral or without respect. I just wanted …"

"I am happy to see you too," he interrupted her gently. "Just give me time to get used to how straightforward you are. Is every Lórien elf so affectionate?"

She thought to hear badly disguised irony in his words and rolled her eyes. "Discussions about the differences between your home and mine, again? Then _I_ will be the one leaving."

"You have a way of misunderstanding me way.” Sighing, he dropped the subject.

"Has Tegiend recovered from the attack?"

"He’s already back to training." Tarisilya couldn’t hide that she was proud of her brother, and a little bit of herself, too. "He healed much faster than after breaking his rips. Ada teaches me more every day. By the way, I brought something.” She took a book bound in red leather from her bag, the book that meant so much to her. "You remember? Last time we met, there was something you wanted to know."

"And you have an answer before you heard the question?” Openly curious, Legolas looked at the detailed charcoal drawing of the night sky over Lórien on the first page. "This is beautiful. Did you make it?"

"No, it was my mother’s.” Tarisilya pointed at the stylized Tengwar ‚N’ on the inside of the cover. "Nestradyl, that was her." She watched Legolas very closely when she said her mother’s name in his presence for the first time, disappointed when she couldn’t notice any sign of him being familiar with it.

Well, that would have been a big coincidence. Not even a Prince could know every habitant of his realm by name. And Vandrin had often emphasized how very remotely his wife had lived when she had stayed in Mirkwood, seldom seeking contact to others.

"She was such a wonderful artist. She wrote down everything that the night and the moon taught her. I’m continuing it, adding whatever I learn. Her knowledge helps me discover and develop my healing abilities. My mother was a visionary, like Tegiend; I am more like my father. But the fate of the moon, she’s passed on to me, not my brother. Here.” She turned a page, trying hard not to startle when she touched the back of Legolas‘ hand by accident. It was ridiculous. First, she yearned for his closeness, then only seconds later, she felt like running as fast as she could. He had put a spell on her, sure, that had to be it … "The story of the child of the moon.” Her fingertips softly traced the first of the squiggled golden letters.

Every Mirkwood elf, rainstorm and secret she kept from her father were forgotten for a moment when she imagined her mother writing down this sad song, as she did so often. Had Nestradyl thought about the babies inside of her then already? Considered that her daughter might take over her gift? "I don’t even know what she looked like. She could never sit still long enough for someone to portrait her. I wish she had drawn herself at least once." Tarisilya hoped that Legolas would mistake the few stray drops on her cheeks for rain. It had been so long, and still she couldn’t think about it calmly. Vandrin had needed a while to convince Tegiend and her that they were not responsible for their mother’s death. Knowing that helped with the anger, but not with the longing.

"Giving birth to us took so long, she lost so much blood … Ada did everything he could, but in the end, she just didn’t have enough strength left.” It felt nice when Legolas reached for Tarisilya’s shoulder and squeezed it softly, so good that she couldn’t care less if it was appropriate or not.

"What about you? You only ever talk about your father."

"The memory of my mother begins to fade. I was only a few decades old. That, too, can be hurtful. I wish I had something like that from her.” Legolas followed the written lines on the first slightly yellowed pages of the book with his fingertips as well and then tried to give it back to her.

"Read it. No, it’s alright. You did want to know about the moon and me, didn't you? Nana finds better words for that than I can.” Tarisilya just tucked the book away in a pocket of Legolas‘ cloak when he kept on playing coy. "I want to have that back though, just so we’re clear. So don’t you dare forgetting it in that disgusting tent of yours."

She wanted to make him laugh, and it worked. What he had just said, had raised sympathy in her. It had to be horrible, forgetting about someone as important as your own parents. Could time really wipe out that much? Maybe her father was right, maybe she wasn’t old enough yet to understand things like that.

"Couldn’t leave it at home, could you?" Grinning, she pointed at the bow that she had spotted under his cloak. "Do I need to worry that you’re always armed when we meet?"

"Well, at least one of us needs to be able to fight properly. Don't tell me you’re not carrying that butter knife with you anymore."

The minute of grief was forgotten. Tarisilya was quickly too busy complaining, full-throated, about Legolas not taking her abilities to defend herself seriously.

"Fine, then show me." Her determination kindled, she jumped down to the wooden ground. If only climbing would be that easy. "No wimping out of it now! You don’t want anything happening to me, do you? Show me how to use a bow. Or are you afraid I could become better than you?"

That little sting to his sense of honor seemed to helped. "You’ll get yourself killed with that.” Shaking his head, Legolas joined her. "Besides, you should work on some close combat skills first. You do not start handling a long-range weapon before you haven’t killed with a blade. It’s a matter of respect. A warrior needs to be able to look death in the eye, I already told you that."

"You forget what my calling is. I have seen more than one creature die," Tarisilya replied harshly.

"You didn’t kill any of them though, did you?" Legolas asked again, nodding shortly when she shook her head in discomfort. "That’s what I mean. It’s difficult enough for a warrior, still being able to look in the mirror after the light of the Valar left some victim’s eyes. And while I might not know half as much about healing as your father, even I have been taught that for people like you, the effects of that act are even worse."

"That's why I hope that I’ll never be forced to kill. I just want to be able to take care of myself." Tarisilya rubbed her arms as casually as possible, to hide that Legolas' explanations hit a little too close to the point. No, she didn’t have the first clue of what it was like, being in a battle, that was true. Ending up in one wasn’t her ambition anyway. She just didn’t want to feel unprepared, if it ever came to it.

"Very few elves are lucky enough to achieve one without the other all of their life. Out here though, you probably won’t hit anyone or anything even by accident, so don’t let me stop you. Take off that cloak. You need to be able to freely move your arms." Legolas hung up his own cloak over some limb and then handed Tarisilya his weapon, still reluctant. "Careful please."

"Again: I am a healer. I can close open blood vessels, Legolas. I’m not half as clumsy as you think." And it didn’t sound as irritated as planned. Tarisilya was far too busy, staring in wonder at the weapon's multiply smoothed, darkly coated wood, the artful, detailed painting in the form of small leaves, the tight string threatening to cut into one's flesh when grabbed tightly enough. "Did you make this?"

"My father helped me. It’s pretty old but I’m just not getting around to building a new one. I have to keep on restringing it.” Legolas showed Tarisilya how to hold and raise the weapon the right way. "Your arms are too short."

"They’re strong though. I nearly knocked Lady Galadriel over earlier," she declared confidently. "Where is my arrow?"

"Not so fast, moon-queen. We’re doing some dry practice first, or you'll end up shooting some innocent bird after all." Legolas didn’t seem to notice Tarisilya’s surprise at the endearment he’d just chosen for her, the translation of her name into a tongue of Men. It surely was just another part of their bantering. Or maybe more. Who could tell?

"Stand up straight, this doesn’t work like that. Taut shoulders. Stretch out your arm, like this …" When demonstrating it for her, what he meant, didn't help, Legolas put one hand on Tarisilya's back, on waist level, gently pressing against her body. "I said, stand up straight. Tension! Would you mind keeping that elbow straight?"

"Hey, this is my first time!" Complaining about his impatient tone was far more harmless than letting it show, how nervous he was making her. No one except for her father and Tegiend touched her like this. It was weird, feeling a stranger’s hand on your body, even if it was through many layers of clothes, hardly noticeable. Legolas was standing way too close to her, still she didn’t want him to stop, feeling disappointed when he stepped back. Maybe he had heard her too quick breathing or her racing pulse. "What, are we done already?"

"I just don’t want to be close when you give it a go."

It was obvious how much effort it cost Legolas, finally handing her an arrow – just as daedal as the bow itself, with small feathers attached to the end – from her quiver. "Don’t hurt yourself, and no one else either. I would hate having to explain to one of the most powerful elves of our time, why I didn’t take care of her charge."

"I'm pretty sure, Lady Galadriel cannot shoot an arrow like you," Tarisilya answered, chuckling even while she shuddered, thinking of the wargs, and the precision and levity, Legolas had killed them with. "I don’t think you have anything to be afraid of."

Quickly turning serious, she finally took aim, the way he had shown her. Her arms really were too short but with a little effort, she could make it work. At least that was what she thought until the arrow escaped her hold, before it was even fully nocked, and got stuck in the ground a few feet away. "Oh."

"That’s why I yielded." Legolas did his best not to laugh but failed miserably.

He made up for it by getting the arrow back for her and standing behind her again. "Your shoulders are still way too tense. And you have to keep that elbow in check.” This time, he rested his hand on hers, making sure she wasn’t rushing things again.

"So what is it that we’re really aiming at?" Tarisilya asked, in a whisper, as if a potential victim shouldn’t hear, right into Legolas‘ ear which happened to be conveniently close to her face. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the small shivers breaking out on his neck immediately. So the situation made him nervous as well ...

"As long as you’re under my watch, sis, definitely at nothing."

Legolas and Tarisilya both startled violently when Tegiend suddenly spoke up right behind them. The wet grass had cushioned his steps so much that he had made it to follow Tarisilya unnoticed. He didn’t look overly enthusiastic. "Don’t get me wrong, Prince Legolas: I am very grateful that you saved my life, but do not confuse that with the permission to turn my sister into a warrior."

" _I_ wanted this! We were only having some fun!" Tarisilya shouted in protest. Quickly she backed away from Legolas, before Tegiend could get a wrong idea.

Legolas had made the worst possible beginning in trying to gain his favor as it was. Tegiend was a strict advocate for the idea that, bad emergencies aside, healer elves always had to wait at home when their partners and sons went to battle. It was one of their biggest differences that Tarisilya had not managed to settle so far.

"No, he is right, Ilya."

Legolas hurried to take a quick bow into Tegiend’s direction, which was more than he was obliged to do, given his far higher rank. "I allowed myself to be tempted. Far be it from me to get your sister into danger."

"Oh, really?" Tegiend was wholly unimpressed by the apology. "How is it then, that I always have to fear for her when she leaves for meeting you? You will excuse us, Your Highness. My father expects us to eat with the Lórien leaders soon. I can’t keep on coming up with alibis for the two of you. Ilya is the one with the big imagination here."

Tarisilya felt anger rising in her. Worry or not, Tegiend was going too far. Yes, maybe she should have told him the truth about Legolas. But starting such a drama about it, was the last thing she had expected of her ever-sympathetic brother. "Now listen here …"

"It’s time for me to leave anyway, Ilya. The road to Imladris is long." She could hardly believe her ears when Legolas turned against her next. Suddenly nothing seemed to be left of that budding friendship between them; he hardly even looked at her anymore. He didn’t bother to touch her shoulder again when he said his good-bye, only showed another light bow in Tegiend’s direction. "I do hope, our next encounter will happen under a brighter star."

"As long as you prefer meetings in the rain to proposing motion in Lórien, I doubt it," Tegiend replied coolly.

Then he led Tarisilya away, with one hand firmly on her back, to the spot where both their horses were waiting.

Tarisilya furiously stared back over her shoulder but couldn’t keep that up for long when she saw the gloomy look on Legolas‘ face. He had only tried to get on Tegiend’s good side.

And her brother thanked him by showing his worst. "You’re impossible!" she hissed, as soon as they were out of hearing range.

"Says the elf meeting with an enemy in secret," he returned, unimpressed. "And not with anyone, no, it has to be the Crown Prince. If you want to antagonize all of Lórien, fine. But this is the last time I’m making sure, you’re being home in time. Don’t drag me into this. I can hear those curses in your mind, even when you don’t say them, Ilya. I do not deserve that!"

"Leave me alone!" Tarisilya spurred Ania to a fast gallop. Why was she only surrounded by people who could see her through so easily? Couldn’t an elf in Lórien have any secrets at all?

Only when she redressed for lunch, still angry, she realized that Legolas had indeed kept her book. She wondered if she would ever get it back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * ion (nín) = (my) son  
> * nana = mother


	5. Chapter 5

Except for the telain that most inhabitants of Caras Galadhon had taken up residence in when coming here, Lórien’s capital was not offering many havens. The elves were usually lingering on those platforms, artfully crafted into the treetops, sheltered from procedures in the woods far below. The few scattered buildings that could only be built at ground level, like the stables, were located near Lord Celeborn’s mallorn, guarded by soldiers around the clock, in case some obnoxious visitor was causing nuisance.

It was an excellent place to linger when you were not in the mood to see any of your family, but sought to think about the last days alone. And about why some things suddenly became so complicated as soon as feelings were involved.

Tegiend quickly made sure that the guards were busy somewhere else, since he really had no interest in a conversation right now, and pushed the broad wooden door open then.

It took him a moment to find the sturdy shape of his white and grey spotted gelding in the herd which had gathered up closely in the middle of the circular building, as it always did at this time. The sun had only climbed a few inches beyond the settlement so far, so the animals were on their feet already, but far from being awake yet.

When Avalir spotted his longtime owner, he snuffled salutatorily but made no move to get out from behind his companions to greet him. He wasn’t even in the mood to search for something to nibble on in Tegiend’s pockets.

"What, you’re giving me a hard time too?" Sighing deeply, Tegiend sat down on the huge pile of dried grass by the wall, protected from certain hoggish creatures by a tall wooden screen. Through the window above his head, he stared at the sky for long minutes, watching the moon end its journey for tonight and vanish behind some clouds. Another rainy day. There didn’t seem to have been any sunshine in Lórien for quite a while. A bad omen? Tegiend wouldn’t be surprised.

What a mess this was. He would have apologized to Tarisilya but since that morning by the Celebrant, she refused to talk to him. As long as she didn’t abandon such childish behavior, he wouldn’t make the first step to make amends. Yes, maybe he had been a little hard on her. They could have talked about this. Maybe he would even agree to take her to Mirkwood again, so they all could find a solution.

But of what kind? There was no way out of this that didn’t include having to lie to anyone. Tegiend loved his sister dearly, but he could not afford to take a stand in this matter. Not now when Haldir had just offered to increase the frequency of their training hours, so maybe Tegiend would be allowed to take the qualifying examination for the guard soon. He couldn’t stand the silence at the dinner table for much longer either, though.

"Why are people always losing their mind when they fall in love?" He didn’t exactly expect an answer from Avalir but it felt good, voicing his thoughts out loud for a change.

Just when he decided to go for a little ride, no matter if his horse was up for it or not, the door opened and Tarisilya stood right before him, laughing cheerfully, as if nothing had ever happened.

"I knew I would find you here. Come on, get up! You need to change clothes! I want to leave immediately!"

"How about you tell your brother what you’re planning first?" Vandrin showed up behind his daughter, smiling at her eagerness.

"I told her, she has to ask you first, Tegiend. She’s not going anywhere without you. But if you like … Your training can wait for a while. To be honest, I’d rather prefer you healing some more anyway before you fully dedicate yourself to the life of a marchwarden."

"And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?" Tegiend wasn’t happy with Vandrin‘s once more overly worried behavior, but he’d long stopped even thinking about rebelling against it like his sister. Still confused, he looked over the packed bag on Tarisilya’s shoulder and the new dress she was wearing, made of a resistant fabric created for long journeys.

"My little girl wants to see the world." Vandrin tenderly put a hand on Tarisilya’s neck, as if that could even start to soothe her impatience.

"I have no idea what it is that suddenly awoke your wanderlust, since you never wanted to leave Lórien before, but I’ll be the last one to mind. At least, as long as Tegiend is taking care of you. You two are old enough to start broadening your horizon. I have to admit though, I wish you’d pick a destination other than Imladris of all places for it," he added with a loathing hum.

Imladris! So that was how the land laid! Tegiend regarded Tarisilya with his most scathing look.

Not only was she lying to her father, Lady Galadriel, Lord Celeborn and everyone else around her, now she was actually planning to leave her home with a conniving plan like that, betraying her father’s trust. And she obviously expected Tegiend to support her in that too.

"Are you not a fight with Lord Elrond?" he asked, slowly, trying to buy some time.

"Tut. Little quarrels over a few healing techniques, that‘s all. He’s probably long forgotten about it. At some point, you have to let the past rest or you do not have a future. Remember that, you two. So, what do you say?" Vandrin had of course noticed the tension between Tegiend and Tarisilya. He probably thought, a trip like that would help pour some oil on that water.

"We can always delay this, Tegiend. If you really prefer to keep on training, I’ll ride out with Ilya as soon as I find some time."

"But …" Visible disappointment darkened Tarisilya’s eyes.

Seeing the tears in them, Tegiend immediately relented, nodding in surrender. Whoever could resist such a heartbreaking expression?

And the whole thing did have one advantage: He would have many days to cast all that nonsense from Tarisilya’s head.

Thranduil had sent Legolas to Imladris before for carrying out various duties. In the past, he had been too much in a hurry to acknowledge the surroundings with more than a quick side glance. When he crossed the river bed bordering Lord Elrond’s realm this day, it did sink in for the first time, what an unique fascination these lands held. Even elves who loved nothing more than the untamed animal life and flora of some woods, paused in view of a spectacle like this.

Since Legolas had not been able to stop outside Lórien as long as planned – the lingering anger about that, he quickly pushed away -, he had time to spare and stopped Bellar at one of the countless streams crossing the gorge, giving the animal the chance to drink, and himself the chance to be amazed.

When the last big war had raged these lands, Lord Elrond had built a shelter that offered more than pure protection from battle, thanks to the magic of numerous elves who had followed his call, and the one already heavy in the air. It felt like a load slipping from his soul, looking into the wide of the waterfall-pierced mountains. This was a place of to be safe in. Disturbance from the outside was quickly noticed and parried by competent guards immediately, in steep slopes and easily cornered valleys. The depth of valley itself allowed a late sunrise only, still there was a weird golden light creeping over the mountain tops at this time already, bathing the few woods and lakes close by in a breathtaking shine.

Before one even neared the city, you could already find relief in such an ambience of seclusion.

Legolas couldn’t imagine anyone being unaffected by such a miracle of nature or any creatures with foul intentions ever trying to enter. And still he knew from his father’s tales that this place, too, had been sieged in the battles against Sauron. That even here, many elves had to pick up weapons to ensure the safety of their realm.

It was tales like that, that had made him understand as an elfling already Thranduil’s reasons for keeping his own troops schooled that well. And that it wasn’t for protocol only, that he’d insisted on Legolas‘ own comprehensive battle training, ever since Legolas had been old enough to carry a bow. No place in Middle-earth, no matter how well shielded, could escape the terrors of war. That was what had happened in Mirkwood, in Imladris, in Lindon. Maybe someday, it would happen in Lórien too – a thought, provoking shivers on his arms that not even the first rays of sun could warm.

"Enough reality for one morning." He patted Bellar’s neck to signal him, he wanted to carry on.

Legolas had noticed the sound of unshod hooves closing in on him a few minutes ago already, loud like a conversation at the neighboring table of an inn for elven ears. Especially when there was no disruptive noise around, only the morning song of some birds and the constant swoosh of the falls. In the blinding backlight though, he wasn’t able to make out the shape in the distance, so he was more than taken aback when it turned out to be Lord Elrond himself.

The Lord surely had more important duties to attend to than welcoming visitors in person, especially unannounced ones. The ruler of Imladris apparently meant to tend to his good relationships with other elven realms.

"I hope my arrival isn't untimely." Legolas offered a deeper bow than the ones he greeted close acquaintances with, one hand on his belt, the other lowered, palm facing outwards, the way his father had taught long ago. He had to admit, it didn’t look awfully neat. Some gestures you unlearned when there weren’t many people you had to show it to.

"At ease, Prince of Mirkwood." Elrond released him from the uncomfortable position immediately. "There’s no bad time for well-regarded visitors. What brings you here?"

"Curiosity," Legolas admitted, relieved about the polite reception.

Tarisilya had rightly complained about the insufferable quarrels among elves in these realms. Thranduil especially had mastered the art of offending others. For Legolas, it was quite rare to really be welcome anywhere. "My father released me from my responsibilities for a while to travel the vastness of Middle-earth and learn more about our mutual home."

"And to find your focus for said responsibilities again?” It wasn’t a question. Thanks to some impressive mental powers, Elrond could surely feel the unrest as well as far too many worries in Legolas’ mind. The hardly noticeable lines around his eyes and the corners of his mouth deepened for a moment, the very upright position on his mare’s bare back unchanged. Only the way he folded his hands above its mane, gave away real interest, and that Legolas’ answer was mandatory.

One of the most experienced elves of Middle-earth, Elrond expressed with small details like that simple bright tunic and the absence of a circlet to illustrate his rank, that in spite of his long lifespan, he had not become indifferent to the fate of others. Instead of setting himself apart from his younger visitor, he put across an openness to hearing troubles and wishes that Legolas could not voice in a certain other place.

Legolas couldn’t help but wonder if Elrond had always been like that. He remembered some different portrayals from admittedly quite embittered sources ... Even most emotionally biased stories contained a grain of truth. Maybe the birth of Elrond’s kids had caused that change. Whatever the reason was, Legolas felt better than in his own chambers in the palace in the last months.

"Maybe that, too."

"Please." Elrond waved at him and led the way, choosing a shortcut that Legolas would never have found by himself. "You’re just in time for breakfast."

The vocal growl of Legolas’ stomach was enough of an answer.

"Shut that mouth of yours, you’re causing a draft."

As angry as Tegiend had been on Tarisilya just days ago, her overwhelmed amazement when they approached their destination made him forget every grudge. She was nothing short of enchanting when her wide-open eyes betrayed her young age, a picture of lovely innocence that even as her brother of the same age, he couldn’t get enough of.

Tegiend was impressed himself. He had to admit that not only elves of Lórien possessed great handiwork skills. He still did prefer a talan over a chunky house any time of the day. But buildings like Lord Elrond‘s bright palace in the distance, with those countless squiggled columns and windows made of pure crystal, the artful fountains and statues greeting the visitors and some constructs probably serving no higher purpose, like that round citadel over there, and still were pretty to look at … All of that forged a townscape of elegance that probably no elf could fail to appreciate.

Well, maybe those savages in Mirkwood could.

Before Tegiend‘s mood could sour again at the thought at a certain elf of these lands, he distracted himself by reminding Tarisilya of everything she was supposed to do, and especially of what she was supposed to avoid at all cost. That she should be as quiet as possible and risk no wrong word. Fortunately, in that regard at least, she was still listening to him, while every attempt of trying to get her to talk about Legolas in these past few days had failed.

"Is that him?" She interrupted him, excitedly, when four raven haired persons left the palace to approach them. A she-elf, two basically identical looking elves by her side, and in their middle, a tall, noble-clad elf with a narrow silver circlet adorning his high forehead.

"It would seem so. With nearly all of his family on his coat-tails. Please don’t embarrass me, alright?" Tegiend quickly dismounted and came to Ania’s side, to help Tarisilya get down. Usually, she was perfectly able to do that herself, but it would have been mortifying if she’d gotten stuck with that brand new pretty dress somewhere, or with the heels she wasn’t being used to.

"Milord … It is our pleasure." Elrond’s unmoving expression made it hard for Tarisilya to keep a friendly face. Maybe the relationship between Vandrin and him still wasn‘t quite that good after all. Well, at least they had been allowed into the city, though Tegiend and her had been watched ever since entering the valley, as Tegiend had told her. An aspiring guard himself, he knew what to look out for. "Allow me to introduce myself …"

"Tegiend Vandrinion and Tarisilya Vandriniel," Elrond interrupted her. "It’s not often that elves come here who look so similar to a past dear acquaintance. You are but an image of your mother, Tarisilya. Just your hair and your height, you both seemed to have gotten from your father. And from what I hear, in your case, his gift."

"I’m doing my best to take all the leaves out of his book.” Tarisilya gathered up the skirt of her dress an inch or two and tried to present her best formal curtsy. That Elrond and Nestradyl had actually known each other in person, was news to her. Maybe the Lord could tell her a few things about her mother if he found some time. No matter if her trip here would fulfill its purpose or not, it definitely hadn’t been for nothing.

She was tempted to ask if Elrond was housing some more guests right now, just to finally be rid of this gnawing uncertainty, but her ears were still ringing from Tegiend’s reprimands.

"I am pleased that you have found your way here."

Elrond motioned his sons closer, who were even harder to keep apart than some elves in Lórien said it about Tarisilya and Tegiend, with their father’s narrow bright eyes, the same pointy features. The smaller elf next to them set herself apart from all three of them with a rounder, softer face that reminded more of her grandmother Galadriel.

"Elrohir and Elladan and my dear daughter Arwen. They will guide you through your first visit in Imladris and will be happy to show you our realm."

"Thank you for your kindness, milord." Tegiend returned the silent greeting of the three elves just as formally before he looked in his saddlebag for the gift that their father had given them to bring.

"Ada was so free as according you one of his unique works.” Tegiend looked glad to finally be rid of the heavy book, clad in light green leather. Vandrin had forbidden him and Tarisilya to take a look inside, but they had a pretty good idea anyway, what kind of spells and magic it contained. Vandrin just couldn’t help himself, provoking his favorite enemies a little. "He hopes that all misunderstandings are now in the past and that you would be looking forward to a visit by him in the foreseeable future as well."

"May it happen, young Tegiend." Not a clear response to the offer of peace, but at least Elrond didn’t burn the book right away or throw it in the river, so that probably was a start.

"I have to return to my duties. I’ll be looking forward to see you on the terrace of my chambers tonight. Arwen, show them their room."

Tarisilya sighed a silent breath of relief when that first meeting ended without any misstep.

On their way to the buildings deep inside the city, which had been constructed on several hills, she eyed up the close-lipped elf in front of her. Her kingly appearance, an eyecatcher even in her simple violet dress, definitely didn’t just attract attention of elves but also made one or the other she-elf look twice. Was this maybe one of the reasons for Legolas riding to Imladris? It was a nonsensical question and the answer was none of her business, still she suddenly couldn’t think about anything else.

"She’s got longer hair than me too," she murmured, grumpily, ignoring the punishing nudge of Tegiend’s elbow.

Getting rid of her brother fortunately was easier than expected. When Elrohir offered to show him the training post of the Imladris warriors, he got so excited that he had changed clothes within five minutes and left the one-story guesthouse, they had been placed in.

Under different circumstances, Tarisilya would have been a little offended because she hadn’t even been asked to come along, but she had different plans anyway.

Besides, meeting the twins had left her with mixed emotions. The two of them were not only offering their services as healers but worked in their father’s army as well, unlike their little sister who didn’t seem to have decided for any specific way in her life at all yet. That surprised Tarisilya, and it left her clairaudient. Seeing how much enthusiasm the brothers showed about their warrior life, Tarisilya had to wonder once more if it wasn’t just dreary fairy tales, people kept on telling her about healers not being supposed to kill, because it would damage their abilities. After all, her father - though seldom, as he never got tired to emphasize – had raised his sword himself in the worst conflicts of war, when there had been no other way.

But she wasn’t willing to let that discrepancy ruin this day. Maybe in the course of her visit, she could ask the twins, how they handled these things.

Something else took priority right now. Dressing new wasn’t half as easy for her as for Tegiend. She’d brought some of her most beautiful gowns along, hoping that she would be needing them, but for once, those were hard to get into alone thanks to the lacing in the back. Besides, she hated her own reflection every time she looked in the mirror. Three windows on every wall let way too much sun in here and clearly showed all those things she didn’t like about her body. It didn’t help, calling herself frivolous for wanting to look especially good today. Maybe it was frivolous, and there definitely were more important things in life … But her father also kept on telling her, one had to look appropriate for every occasion. She only tried to follow his guidelines, obviously …

Finally she ended up with her favorite color red again. Her shabby hair covered by a bright scarf, she was trying to find matching shoes, in vain, when she remembered that everyone she had met in Imladris so far had been barefoot. Not that common in the Lórien woods, in this case a very useful practice though.

Triumphantly, she headed outside to explore the area on her own for a while. After all, just assuming, it might be possible, she would stumble upon a distant friend ...

First of all though, she ran into someone sitting on the stairs leading to these houses. "Lady Arwen." Tarisilya felt like she hadn’t curtsied as often as today in the last 20 years.

She could just hope, it wasn’t too obvious that her first thought was right again with the question if Legolas thought this elf as beautiful as she did. If he bowed to her too, or if their kind of acquaintanceship rendered such politeness unnecessary.

"Please, I am not my father." A bell-like laughter on her lips, Arwen released Tarisilya from her tense position. "Since the twins kidnapped your brother already, I thought maybe you want to go on a stroll through the city."

"Usually, I would love to …" Darn, how did you tell the daughter of a lord that you rather wanted to be alone?

"You’re tired from travelling, of course, my mistake. If you’re longing for some rest, there’s a lovely little garden right below the guesthouses."

"That sounds really nice." Relieved, Tarisilya took the first steps down. She grimaced when the soles of her feet, not used to naked ground, protested against the feeling of heated bricks. Maybe she just wasn’t born to be an elf.

Someone like Arwen of course knew no such problems. She looked like she’d never worn shoes in her life. The dress wrapping her slender form, on her left side was as short as etiquette barely allowed, revealing a milky white shank and a sparkling bracelet around her ankle, made up of several round jewels matching the color of the dress.

Tarisilya wondered if she would ever achieve elegance like that. She doubted it. Sure, she could ask the tailors for some advice about clothing, but then she still lacked the most important thing: charisma. Suddenly she wasn’t even in the mood to stroll around the gardens anymore, on the futile quest for someone who had probably long left and for whom she wasn’t good enough anyway.

"I’ll leave a few yellow rose hips on your nightstand. Put one of those in the water each time you wash your hair. It makes it grow faster." Arwen didn’t look the smallest bit irritated about the remark that Tarisilya had hoped, she hadn’t heard.

"I shall try, thanks." Her face the color of a ripe tomato, she fled the scene.

The garden did have one advantage: It was completely deserted, and shielded by high white walls that offered privacy. The grass was soft enough to prevent stepping on painful obstacles. Under these beeches and oaks, one could easily feel at home. Tarisilya had forgotten to ask for something to drink earlier and bent over a big round fountain in the middle of the compound, relieved, to cool her face.

And then she paused, when the sound of singing nearby ripped right into her heart.

For a few seconds, she stood completely still, just listening to the a song that she knew quite well herself, to a musical, soulful voice that she had thought to maybe never hear again. Without hesitation now, she started to move, following the melody until she reached a couple of stony benches close by. For once, she was lucky. He was sitting with his back to her and didn’t notice her right away.

Tarisilya had seen the face of the warrior and the one of a traveler. To some small extent, the one of a friend, too. Now for the first time she looked at the ideal of a dreamer. One that she could have spent eternities watching only.

Rough leather garb had been traded for a thin silver tunic, with a stiff collar, made from a fabric that definitely more than one tailor had been working on, and for more than just a few hours. For once, he didn’t have the obligatory bow on him. Legolas’ hair that could be unruly betimes, today was soft waves falling down to his waist, two strands plainly braided at the back of his head. Something golden glittered there brightly, that Tarisilya couldn’t quite make out.

When she carefully crept closer, his slightly careless posture with his legs drawn close to his chest revealed that even a Prince who apparently was busier hunting than attending to matters of regnancy, knew how to dress when visiting certain places. Matching the tunic, spotless white breeches encased his long leg. Legolas, too, had adapted to that barefoot tradition common around here. At least _he_ wasn’t wearing an anklet.

If he knew that she was there, he didn’t show it, though she could swear, there was an unscheduled long pause between two verses. For now, he didn’t let himself be distracted but started the last rhyme about the sun and the light of Middle-earth, with his eyes closed and his head leaned back, addressing the sky he was singing for.

Tarisilya worked up all the courage she had and joined in the last words, in a higher pitch. She had had no real training for her voice just yet, but she liked to use it. At least, it didn’t sound completely off.

Legolas let the last of his words fade with a soft hum before he finally turned to her. "I didn’t dare to hope, you would find a way."

"Since everyone is trying to get in our path, we’ll just have to be creative.” Still fascinated by that wholly changed elf sitting in front of her, Tarisilya found herself unable to move. Her voice was a whisper only.

"Did you think I’d find you faster if you‘re blinking in the sun like a coin?" She tried her best to brighten the mood with one of her banters.

"What? Right, that." Legolas plucked the golden chain from his hair and put it down next to him. "My father has a weakness for this kind of thing. I’m not saying, he didn’t pass it on to me at all, but this isn’t exactly my taste. It’s a gift of Arwen. I didn’t want to offend her by not wearing it."

Tarisilya felt like a bucket of ice water had been emptied over her head. Arwen. Of course.

Had she really thought for even a moment to have the same effect on Legolas that he had on her? Tegiend was right after all, she was a naive fool.

"I guess I’ll leave you two to it then.” Disappointed, she turned away.

Her posture tensed immediately when Legolas suddenly stood behind her. In the wink of an eye he’d jumped over the backrest and grabbed her shoulder. The broad, pointed neckline of her favorite dress revealed some of skin there, enough to make her heart stop for a moment when slender fingers grazed it, so shortly, it was nearly untrue.

"You’re riding all the way from Lórien to Imladris just to say hello and leave then?" Legolas asked, mildly amused. "Can you _see_ Arwen anywhere around here?"

"Please let go of me." Half a minute ago, everything had been alright. What had turned things so sour suddenly? Confused, angry on herself, Tarisilya turned around to Legolas, with tears glistening in her eyes. "What is happening to me?"

Whatever he wanted to answer, wherever he wanted to put that hand that suddenly was way too close to her face: Every emotion vibrating between them vanished at once, making space for vague fear when loud calls came from outside the walls, by the sound of it, from Lord Elrond’s sons.

Something had happened, something bad. The cries were so hectic and agitated that you couldn’t even make out what they were about. Just one word was clearly audible, and it made Tarisilya’s blood freeze.

" _Orcs_!"


	6. Chapter 6

This time, Tarisilya didn't let Legolas stop from following him through the huge lithic, to the court where the voices came from. By now, those had been joined by the ones of Lord Elrond and Tegiend.

Only the distraught look on Tegiend‘s face then had her slow down. "What happened? Where were you?"

It looked like the twins had gone for a ride with her brother. Three horses, foaming from their mouths after a hard gallop, stood beside them, pawing at the ground.

"A group of Men were murdered behind the riverbed, last night already. They look … bad." Elrohir’s voice revealed that he was thrown off balance just as badly as Tegiend, in spite of having more than two millennia on him. "A few of them seem to have fled to a cave nearby. The path is soaked with blood. They need help. The orcs will surely be back."

"We shouldn’t lose any time. It will be dark in just a few hours. Maybe we can bring them to safety before," Elladan added.

"None of you will ride out as long as there’s orcs out there," Elrond sharply interrupted their planning. "What Men are doing in this area, is of no interest to us."

"You can’t be serious." Tegiend paled, promptly forgetting the very restraint he had been preaching to Tarisilya about for days. "There were children! Women! Men fought side by side with elves in the last war. We cannot abandon them when someone needs us!"

"These are matters you cannot understand yet, young Tegiend." Elrond, too, suddenly sounded cool and harsh.

"Men always made the wrong decision in crucial moments. Withdrawing to a cave that can be attacked from all sides anytime and offers no way out, is just one of them. We will not start the same stupid tradition. If a whole horde of orcs is fearless enough to stay this close to the valley, they will try to go even further. I need my sons to protect the borders with the other soldiers, especially since the general of my guard is not present. Without Glorfindel overseeing the defenses, every elf is needed here to ensure the valley’s safety."

"That’s it?" Tegiend asked, stunned, when the twins turned away. "You will not do anything?"

"Once ada made a decision, there’s no discussion," Elladan replied firmly. "I suggest, you and your sister go to the guesthouses. The night might get rough."

"As if." Tegiend mounted his horse again, determined to leave by himself if he had to.

"This is too dangerous for you." Legolas blocked his way even before one of the Imladris elves could. "You are not trained enough to hold your ground against orcs."

Tegiend only really seemed to notice his presence just now. All the more enraged was the look, he regarded Legolas with. "It shouldn't surprise me that _you_ are unable to comprehend that, Your Highness. Keep on hiding in the gardens, go on. After what I’ve just seen, I will not wait for the rest of that group to be slain."

"I’ll come with you," Tarisilya stated after listening to the discussion with clenched fists and her mouth going dryer by the second.

"Cut the nonsense!" Tegiend snarled. "You seriously think I’m taking you along for something like that? You have no idea how to fight."

"I don’t want to fight. You’ll take me along because I’m a healer. If there’s blood, these people are hurt." She crossed her arms tightly, not ready to give in. " _You_ seriously think I’m letting you leave alone and wait for you to return in pieces? Like when those wargs attacked you?"

Now it was her way that Legolas blocked, with just the same determination. "You have a warrior’s courage, Ilya, but that doesn’t make you one. With the Lord’s permission, you’re going to stay in the protection of his valley until we are back.” He threw a quick glance at Elrond, relieved when the other elf just nodded.

"Did I just hear a ‚we’?" Tegiend was not only surprised by the offer, but also by how quickly Tarisilya accepted the hint of paternalism. Well, maybe, some things she only needed to hear from the right elf to understand them. That this elf wasn’t him, seemed to put another poisoned arrow to Tegiend's heart.

"I never said, I’m not moving out to help these people. I only think you too unpracticed. But if that is your decision, I can’t change it anyway."

Legolas quickly climbed the stairs to the guesthouses. "I need my weapons and armor. Wait for me by the gate."

He pretended not to see the look on Tarisilya‘s face when she watched him leave, one that did carry gratefulness, of course … but mostly worry. For both of them.

In the end, it was Legolas who couldn’t stand the silence anymore. Actually, he had braced himself for a whole broadside of Tegiend’s antipathy before they had left. Instead, the first minutes of their ride to the stream bed passed without a word. "I’m afraid, the two of us were off to a bad start."

"There is no ‚the two of us’, Your Highness, as long as there is no ‚us’ for Lórien and Mirkwood." Tegiend kept on staring straight ahead. His expression grew more unapproachable by the word. "In the foreseeable future, it will be my duty to bring you before Lady Galadriel if you come too close to Lórien, then you can explain to her what you think about your father’s views. What happens out of Lórien on the other hand, is not of interest to me as long as it doesn't get my people or innocent members of other folks into danger."

Legolas was not used to being talked to like that. Aggression would only make the mood worse though, so he was glad for his father teaching him how to keep his emotions in check, ever since he’d been little.

It helped, putting himself in Tegiend’s position for a moment. This was the third time within a short period that the elf was fearing his sister to be in danger. That he saw the very same relationship threatened, that Legolas had sworn not to destroy after that warg attack. To not to leave any wounds that maybe could never heal. And never was an awfully long time in an elf’s life.

"I suppose, you would prefer there to be no kind of ‚us‘ between Ilya and me either."

"You are a lot older than me. I cannot claim for myself to give you advice, let alone orders." A bitter smile curled on Tegiend’s lips.

"My sister however, fortunately allows me on her field from time to time. If she is ready to listen, I will tell her the same that I said to you when last we met. What she makes of it then, is her decision. I cannot dictate what is good for her and what isn't, like my father. If I see something that belongs in the second category, I can just try keeping it away from her. There is nothing for the two of us to talk about, so let’s concentrate on what lies ahead."

"As you wish." Legolas’ readiness to reconcile quickly shrunk. "I should warn you, in case that is your intent: You cannot make me angry. No one easily can."

"You obviously haven't spent much time with Ilya yet," Tegiend declared with a touch of humor.

Which he then choked on though, because Legolas and him reached a clearing where several naked, mutilated bodies were piled around a burnt out fire. "This is it. We need to lay these people to rest."

"No time, not now at least. Besides, I don't know what kind of rituals Men maintain for burials." Legolas quickly surveyed the details of the massacre, the numerous arrows that had pierced the Secondborns' bodies, before he turned his gaze back to the trail that the twins had described to him earlier. It wasn't the first time he was forced to witness such a thing, but that didn’t make it easier. Not a bit.

It was not anger producing the silence between them any longer but sorrow. And the anxious question, how many more wrongdoings like this would soon happen in Middle-earth.

"This must be it."

It had turned dark alarmingly fast while Tegiend and Legolas had followed the blood trails seeping into the ground and bushes. Finally, the narrow switchback opened into a naturally fabricated inlet in the smallest mountain of this area. They knew that the way home would be a lot riskier, that a lot could happen until they would reach the city gates again.

Seeing the corpses again had taken a bigger toll on Tegiend than he'd realized. His concentration failed him. Hearing Legolas‘ warning too late, he nearly overlooked a big rock thrown at him from inside the cave, that could easily have split his skull. He could barely duck in time. "We don’t want to harm you! We want to help!”

Belatedly, he realized how unlikely it was that these people could understand him. He better let Legolas do the talking, who surely knew the language of Men.

To his surprise, a female voice answered immediately, in accent colored but flawless Sindarin. "Can you prove that?"

"We’re coming to you unarmed. Do not be afraid." Legolas sounded just as surprised about these people speaking their tongue, but he reacted immediately and kept on doing the same, well aware of the soothing effect an elf’s words could have on troubled souls. He put down his bow and dagger and approached the cave with his hands slightly raised.

"Your first watch," he said to Tegiend, with a weak smile on his lips, a request in disguise to keep an eye on the surroundings, in case the orcs came back earlier than expected.

This time, the recurring reminder of his inexperience didn't bother Tegiend. It kept him alert. Keeping an eye on possible hideouts on the switchbacks as well as he could, he opened his senses fully to the environment and to what it might possibly have in store.

Just like after that battle with the wargs, he was impressed by Legolas‘ fighting abilities, that obviously not only included drawing a bow quite well, but tactics and courage as well. Walking into a possibly dangerous situation unarmed took a lot of guts.

While not with affection, he could at any rate regard the other elf with respect.

Today, that would have to be enough.

"You really are an elf." The woman who had spoken neared Legolas slowly, her steps wobbly. Although her body was strewn with wounds, she was smiling. "I hoped for so long, to be granted meeting one of your kind. And now, right before my end, it is happening."

"How many of you are there?" Legolas quickly caught the woman when she collapsed right before his eyes and helped her sit down on the rocky ground. Attacking the elves had taken the last of her strength.

"We were many. The orcs wanted us to watch our husbands die, before they would violate us and roast us on a spit.” A loud sob on her lips, the woman buried her face in her hands.

"Then we could make it to run. Two of us died on the way. Sivara dropped dead when we entered the cave. I fought for my sister's life all night." Dully, she pointed at the corpses of two young girls in the back of the cave. The dark and the cold evening wind disguised the beginning scent of decay, at least for noses of Men.

"Now there's only darling and me left."

"Who is Darling?" Legolas took another thorough look around but couldn‘t find anyone else.

"Here." There was amusement in the woman’s green eyes when she gathered her torn tunic together tightly around her upper body, revealing a small bump at her front. Only now, Legolas realized that the woman had lost her wits. Watching her friends being slaughtered had robbed her of all clear thinking.

The only thing keeping her alive probably was the child. "It will be a girl. My husband said so, and I never knew him to be wrong. A beautiful girl …" Her voice was lost in another sob.

"I’m taking you away from here." This time, trying to rein in his feelings failed. The grief radiating off this woman who had lost nearly everything, could not leave any being with a shred of compassion unaffected. Legolas wrapped his robe around the Secondborn’s trembling body and carefully lifted her into his arms.

She didn’t notice anymore. His head fell against his shoulder with a thud. She had lost consciousness.

"What’s wrong with her? Where are the others?" Tegiend showered Legolas with questions as soon as he stepped outside.

"There are no others." Legolas passed him by without acknowledging the shocked looked on his face. It was a bitter experience, coming too late. Every first time left a mark.

What he had seen today would shape Tegiend, and forge his future path. He had made it clear enough earlier that Legolas was the last person he wanted to support him with that.

At least he overcame his numbness quickly enough to help Legolas take the woman in front of him on his horse. Once they were back in the safe fortress of Imladris, there would be enough time for the nagging question if there would have been a way to change these peoples' fate.

"Tegiend, wait." Simultaneously nearly, they slowed their horses to a walk.

Orcs, leaderless since Sauron‘s fall and hardly moving in big, coordinated troops anymore, had long unlearned how to approach without a sound. Dangerous enemies they maybe were, but not invisible ones.

Legolas set the woman down behind the shelter of a tall pile of rocks and positioned himself in front of Tegiend, with his bow ready to hand. "Stay back for now. They’re easier to take down from afar," he added when the younger elf looked indignant about the order immediately, his pride hurt.

"And once they’re here?" Tegiend grabbed the hilt of his sword tightly. "Your dagger won’t be enough then. Haven’t you ever learned how to handle a sword?"

"Only the basics. The next big challenge, once handling a bow is brought to perfection," Legolas admitted.

"Then I hope you’re a better shot than you can handle people."

The first battle cry spared Legolas the embarrassment of an answer.

By their steps, he could make out that there were only ten of them. Probably it was only thanks to their weapons and their victims’ inexperience in battle, that these orcs had been able to assault the men so easily.

Legolas had seen too much death and willful destruction today to feel remorse, when he shot his first three arrows at the enemies who tried to pounce on them, all of them screaming enthusiastically.

The creatures perished immediately. These bastards had either not realized that they were facing elves or they didn't care. Somehow or other, they weren’t too big of a threat.

The restricting site of the switchback though, limited at one side by that unsecured slope, was a problem. Legolas didn’t need to warn Tegiend that the remaining orcs were splitting up. The young elf’s senses were developed a lot better than his sister’s.

Tegiend saw it even before Legolas that the orcs weren’t holding their bloodlust in, in favor of a slow approach. That two of them were already rushing down the side of the mountain, rumbling, their axes held up above their heads. Tegiend jumped aside in time and turned half-way around, bringing up his sword, easily cutting through one of the attackers' torso.

A hard blow to the much too big golden armor that Elladan had hastily given him before they had left, made Tegiend tumble back. The massive metal fortunately prevented damage, so he could jump forward again at once, and cut the head of the second, triumphantly grinning orc off his shoulders.

"Archers behind the rocks!" Legolas’ warned him, just as the first enemy arrow cut through the air.

For a moment they were at a loss, kneeling beside the woman, searching for a way to get rid of the last five orcs. Thanks to the huge shields they were carrying, they wouldn‘t succumb to Legolas‘ arrows easily.

"Give me your cloak." Legolas quickly wrapped a stripe of Tegiend’s coat around an arrowhead and soaked it with an easily inflammable fluid from a flask that he always carried on his belt.

Understanding immediately, his companion needed only a few attempts of striking a small pebble against the rocks, to produce enough sparks and set the coarse fabric on fire.

"You won’t hit them from here. Let me." Tegiend reached out for Legolas' bow. For the first time, they actually agreed on something. The young elf didn’t have half the experience with this weapon that Legolas had, but enough to shoot the burning arrow at the bushes where the orcs were hiding. With a quick roll over his shoulder, thanks to the protection of the metal around his torso, he escaped the hail of arrows, raining on him as soon as he left the cover, unharmed.

"Well done," Legolas shouted when the orcs came running down the hillside, cursing, robbed of their cover.

The moment of inattention nearly became his doom when one enemy jumped down towards him, from an actually much too high position on the banks, his badly scarred, greyish face a grimace of lust to kill.

The weak shine of the fire helped Legolas look right into the remarkably bright eyes of the creature, see its long, tottering ears that distantly still reminded of the origin of these beasts. Ripping the ax from its hands, he struck the orc down with it. Even more black blood splashed on his chest plate.

One of his own arrows passed him by so closely that he could feel the draft by his temple. Startled, he turned his head, staring right into the befuddled expression of another, quite brawny orc behind him who now had an arrowhead stuck in his skull, before the enemy fell.

This time, he wasted not a second with a praise but rather jumped to join Tegiend and help him against the remaining opponents, who now approached them from three sides. The first one, Legolas could surprise by not being half as unarmed as the orc seemed to think. The ax of the killed creature deeply cut into the the enemy’s arm with which he was swinging a spiked club.

A pained scream on his lips, the orc fell to his knees and stared up at Legolas from pleading eyes. The flames high above their heads illuminated his face enough to realize how inexperienced the guy was.

Legolas didn’t even need to recall the sight of the corpses to end the orc’s life with another blow of the ax. Death was nothing but mercy for these disfigured, abused creatures that once, at the dawn of time, had been part of his own folk.

"Looks like they’ve had enough for now." Tegiend had injured one of the other orcs with his sword, but not enough to kill him.

The two enemies fled out of reach as quickly as possible, crawling and limping.

"Your privilege." Tegiend gave Legolas back his bow and arched an eyebrow in confusion when he didn’t raise it again.

"Enough blood has been shed for one day. If they come back, the Imladris guards will take care of them." Legolas felt tiredness wash over him, from the battle, from everything he had learned earlier, from all of these dark sides of Middle-earth, that he should have expected to meet when he had started on his travels. Still they hit him harder than he’d even thought possible.

Another attack quickly made him yield, or the next arrow would have pierced his throat. Without hesitating for even a second, he nocked two more missiles himself, killing the orcs in the distance who had not even been willing to accept a honorable departure.

Tegiend‘s admiring look left him cold. His thoughts were with the only survivor of this massacre. Maybe the orcs had aimed their weapons at her as well …

No, the woman still was laying by the rocks, with her weak breath going steady and some of her dirty bleedings stopped. She had not even been able to witness the elves’ revenge on her torturers.

The rest of the way home proceeded as uneventful as silent.

In spite of the late time of day, the two elves were greeted by a big group at the city gates, with many gestures of approval when the night-lights revealed the dark blood on their clothes.

Two of the elves did not applaud.

Tarisilya on the one hand, who rushed to Tegiend immediately to make sure that nothing had happened to him, and to take a look at the woman sitting in front of him.

And Arwen, whose eyes were fixed on Legolas, stayed silent as well. Whatever she saw in his face, she didn’t seem to like it. She abruptly turned and left for Lord Elrond’s palace.

Busy with searching the crowd for the Lord, Legolas saw from the corner of his eyes only how suspicious Tarisilya looked when she watched Arwen leave, how quickly she turned towards her patient again. Only now, hours after Tarisilya behaving so weirdly in the garden, he understood what was going on with her. Her completely unfounded feelings of jealousy should have amused him; instead, warmth filled his soul and mended the worst wounds of the night. Sometimes, even nasty feelings could produce beautiful things.

"It was a single horde only," he explained, struggling to stay calm when Elrond finally appeared next to him. The lord’s callousness earlier still upset Legolas, but of course he was aware that this elf had seen a lot more than himself in all his millennia, and that it wasn‘t Legolas‘ place to hastily judge him. "Weakened in appearance and efficiency. I doubt, they had any friends or a base nearby. For now, Imladris should be safe."

"Thank you for your commitment, Prince of Mirkwood. I will proudly tell your father about your courage, next time we meet." Elrond put his hand on Legolas' shoulder for a moment.

"There’s more urgent things to do." Legolas didn’t share Tegiend‘s still quite untamed temper but Elrond’s ongoing indifference, now aimed at the badly wounded woman, was too much even for him to ignore, respect or not. He had seen enough of ethnic hatred tonight. He didn’t expect Elrond to let the woman stay here until her soul had at least begun to heal, but he would not allow that she wasn’t being treated.

"It’s already being done, as you can see. The daughter of Vandrin has the same talent for healing as her father, from what I know. If she needs support, you know where to find my sons. You’ll excuse me, Legolas. It’s been a long day."

"Milord …"

Legolas watched Elrond leave with hollow pain in his heart, but then blocked out the scene for good and knelt down next to Tarisilya. "How is she? Do you need help?"

"It’s too late for that." The sadness in her beautiful eyes tried to break his heart.

"She won’t make it?" That was strange. The woman’s condition actually seemed stable to Legolas, healing really wasn’t his expertise though.

" _She_ probably will." Tarisilya opened Legolas’ cloak that the woman was still wearing. The whole lower part was colored red, as was her skirt and her naked feet.

"Don’t blame yourself." She gently touched Legolas’ Hand. It probably showed on his face, what was going through his head. "The baby was probably already dead when you found her. Thank you for trying. And for bringing him home safely," she added, so quietly that Tegiend, standing next to Elrond’s sons a few feet away, wouldn’t hear.

The weak lighting made it hard to tell, but Legolas could swear that the twins had turned quite pale. When they caught him staring, they quickly followed their father to the palace, with their shoulders slumped. It was not much, but maybe at least the two of them had understood something tonight that Elrond didn’t want to see, not anymore.

Since Legolas knew by now that Tarisilya needed solitude when she was treating a patient, he left her alone.


	7. Chapter 7

They hadn’t arranged that, yet at the break of dawn, they both ended up on the same balcony of the halls of healing.

A few minutes ago, Tarisilya had been able to leave the traumatized woman alone for the first time. Braced against the balustrade by in exhaustion, she tried to let the view of the mountains cheer her up, in vain.

"We’re leaving in a few hours," she explained when she heard Legolas’ steps behind her, these almost dance-like movements she had memorized so deeply already. "Tegiend wants to go home, I get that. Besides, I want to warn Lady Galadriel that there are scattered orc cavalcades out there again."

"Then we have the same mission." Legolas stopped next to her, his arms crossed under a new green cloak. The same friendly elf from the tailor houses had probably brought it to him, who had supplied Tegiend with new tunics and breeches earlier, as he had told Tarisilya on his quick visit. "My father will be delighted that for once, I’m actually home earlier than planned."

Their eyes met briefly before they went on staring into the breaking morning. It was like every misunderstanding and embarrassment from their first meetings had suddenly vanished. The short crisis had forged a deep bond of friendship between them.

"Tegiend would have taken the woman with him if she hadn’t been welcome here, but the Lord agreed to have his healers nurse her to health.” Tarisilya was as surprised by that as Legolas looked. "The two of you must have left quite the impression on him yesterday."

"There is no ‚the two of us‘,“ Legolas disagreed sharply but let his tone soften immediately when Tarisilya turned away, feeling hurt. "At least that is what your brother thinks. That does not apply to you and me though. And if we have to come to Imladris every single time: Especially in dark times like these, I won’t let stupid prejudice keep me away from people close to me."

"What about Arwen? What is that between you and her?" Asked in a different voice, the question would betray Tarisilya‘s jealousy again. Accompanied by her usual gesture of curiosity, with her head tilted and her brows raised, it sounded harmless. Private, still, but it wasn‘t like he had to answer if he didn‘t want to.

"Nothing. At all." Legolas grimaced with displeasure. "Except for too much misplaced worry on her side that keeps on making us part on bad terms. Under different stars, with different signs, maybe the two of us would be somewhere else now, but we decided against that path before we even started on it. Arwen is the Evenstar of this world, the hope and the beauty of elfkind. She has much life to live before her affection can focus on a particular person." Quick enough, the irritation turned to a kind of brotherly care that put Tarisilya to shame for ever assuming anything different.

"But that won’t me me."

Tarisilya tried not to look too relieved. The following silence and the proximity to someone offering her a shoulder to lean on, without any pressure for anything more to come from it, without the fear of doing something wrong … That helped her better to process the fright than a few hours of sleep could have. "So I will be seeing you again?"

Instead of answering, Legolas took a book from a pocket of his cloak. "This is yours."

A leafstalk marked a page in the last third, right where Tarisilya was putting her own notes on record. The next free page was now filled with a perfect drawing of that clearing near Lórien, where she had met Legolas for the first time, including the Celebrant and the big mallorn. The moon on the night sky was full.

"Under the sign of your mother, whenever our time allows it."

Tarisilya held the book close to her chest and quickly put her free arm around Legolas’ shoulders, enjoying his just as coy hug before stepping back. "My prince …"

"Moon-queen …" He pushed back some unruly strands of hair from her forehead, to look straight into her eyes, as if there was something important he wanted to tell her. But then he just grinned, awry. "Go clean yourself up. You smell off blood."

"And you reek off orcs." By now, they could laugh about it, as bitter as it tasted.

Besides, bantering made the parting easier. At least for a few minutes of longing, not saying good-bye made their hearts believe that they had not just seen each other for the last time in a while.

Since their dinner had been cancelled, obviously, Lord Elrond invited Tarisilya and Tegiend for a late breakfast in the palace. The terrace of his chambers being one of the highest points in the city, it didn’t only offer a view across the whole valley but also on the gardens and meadows of the building, where Ania and Avalir were grazing peacefully alongside Elrond’s horses.

More than once, Tarisilya noticed how her mare was moving away from her herd companions and kept to herself by the edge of the paddock, resting her head on the fence as if she wasn’t feeling well.

When she told Lord Elrond that she wanted to go look after the horse, he shook his head reassuringly. "She’s just tired. She has many years on her. The way to Imladris was most likely one of her last."

"But …" Tarisilya nearly dropped her cup when Elrond just released such a shocking, cruel assumption into this beautiful morning, as if it was another trivia talked about over bread and juice. Appalled, she looked down on the mare that had been by her side ever since she had learned how to ride, that was such a close friend to her.

Ania raised her head as if she felt the attention. She seemed to look right her way as she neighed, loud enough for Tarisilya to hear, as if she wanted to let her know that she was alright.

"She wants peace." Tegiend lovingly put both his hands on Tarisilya’s shoulders. He had already understood Elrond’s hidden offer and apparently thought it a good solution. "Leave her here. She likes the the open space and the mountains all around her. And you don’t have to watch when her time comes."

A few tears streamed down Tarisilya’s cheeks. She knew, the others just meant well, but still had a hard time agreeing. "And how will I get home?"

"That is already taken care of." Lord Elrond acknowledged with a nod full of respect that Tarisilya had just made a very hard decision, the hardest of her life so far.

Just like Tegiend, when he had called for battle yesterday. Maybe they both had taken a step into a more mature life on this visit.

"I think it’s time for you to leave."

Only when they entered the forecourt and saw Arwen waiting for them, a very tall black horse with three white socks beside her, Tarisilya understood what Lord Elrond had meant.

"I could never accept that." Wasn’t there some kind of spell in Middle-earth that stopped you from blushing?

"I insist."

Lord Elrond whistled the young stallion close, that approached Tarisilya with caution but clearly curious, and finally lowered its head so she could made contact.

"He’s called Mawëra," Arwen threw in. "I know him ever since he was born. You’ll have a wonderful time with him, Ilya."

"Thank you, you two." Touched deeply, Tarisilya reached for the reins that she would definitely need while making friends with her new horse, and nestled close to his warm neck, hiding her tears that hadn’t dried just yet.

"So it’s time to say good-bye."

"Not quite yet. Elladan!" Elrond waved at his son who then neared the group with something big, chunky that brightly glistened in the sun, and handed it to a completely bewildered Tegiend.

"Now you’ve got your own, next time you’re going into battle." When Elladan was smiling, his father’s wise features shone through his own even more. "The blacksmiths made it last night."

For a change, it was Tegiend blushing up to the tip of his ears. He tried to hide it by slipping the silver white armor, that had symbols of Lórien carved into it, over his head immediately. Unlike the one yesterday, it fit his upper body perfectly. He suddenly looked like a completely different elf. "I, too, want to thank you very much. Now, nothing can happen on the way home."

Already on her way to the gate soon, Tarisilya took a short look back over her shoulder and spotted a tall elf with Arwen’s and – and Galadriel's – pixie like face joining Elrond and his kids to wave to them. Only now she realized, she had not asked Elrond about her mother after all, or asked the twins about this thing with their healing abilities and their army duties.

Well, there was always next time.

"What are you doing here? The moon isn’t even full yet …"

This time, Tarisilya at least knew where on their usual clearing Legolas would be expecting her. That _he_ had chosen this day to show up though, was unusual. And still, without a real clue, she had felt that he would be waiting for her tonight. She couldn’t explain it if she tried. It was like the stars were shining just a little brighter than usual. And in that certain spot in her soul that had been plagued by fear because of the happenings in Imladris for weeks, she had suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of calmness, like a comforting touch. Maybe Tarisilya had inherited a little bit of her mother’s gift to see those close to her after all. Time would show.

"Correct." She stopped Mawëra under the tree that Legolas was sitting on and looked up at him, grinning. "Which means, you have no business being here. I should get the marchwardens to cast you out."

"You do that, _you‘ll_ explain to your father what you’re doing out here in the middle of the night. I wash my hands of it."

Legolas jumped down next to her and greeted the stallion by patting its neck, before he put his hand on Tarisilya’s, very lightly only. "I was afraid, you wouldn’t make it to escape from home."

"My father moved into a talan of his own when we came back from Imladris. He said, Tegiend is old enough now to take care of me. And Tegiend pretended, he didn’t see me leave.” Tarisilya should be relieved that this suddenly seemed so easy but still felt frustrated.

Tegiend didn’t agree to what she was doing any more than before. He just ignored it, so if anyone found out, he could claim he had been unaesre. It hurt that he just didn’t understand her at all.

Accepting Legolas’ help gladly, she dismounted and held on to his hand for a moment. "I would have come here every day this week, just to make sure I wouldn’t miss you."

"And I would have waited another two weeks, hoping to see you."

Embarrassment about the unexpectedly emotional words spread between them, so Legolas quickly turned to Mawëra who waited beside them patiently. "You two became close quickly."

"He is perfect. Just perfect." Tarisilya fed Mawëra an oat cracker that she’d scrounged from the stable supply earlier, but couldn’t bring herself to smile. Though she meant what she was saying, the words contained deep sadness.

"You miss Ania," Legolas realized.

"It was the right thing to do, I know that. But it still hurts. I feel like a piece of my heart has been taken from me. Is that what happens when someone is important to you?” Even more fear darkened her voice, fear of suffering a loss like that again.

For a moment, there was only silence, Legolas visibly hesitated to answer.

And Tarisilya suddenly felt like she should ride back to Caras Galadhon – and never come back. That scared her even more. Abruptly, she turned away, trying to put herself together.

"That is the way of all life," Legolas finally explained, choked, when Tarisilya turned her gaze, cursing that he’d been too much of a coward to speak up in time. This speechlessness happened to him way too often when talking to his father. He would not allow it with such an important new acquaintance.

"And many a time, this pain will tear our souls apart. There have been elves who have been destroyed by grief or even died from it. Yet it is my firm belief that even one day of happiness outweighs all sorrow. Nothing can be worse than choosing isolation, for being too afraid to get close to others."

Again, it was the vision of his father on his mind when he said something out loud for the first time that he’d ever only sensed for himself. It had taken him many long centuries, but suddenly he thought to understand Thranduil’s sometimes so distanced behavior better.

In spite of all the servants around him, the trade partners regularly visiting the palace, his occasional training with the soldiers, in spite of a number of duties and functions, and so many beings he had met in his long life … His father was alone.

Legolas decided to try and have a long conversation with him, once he returned to Mirkwood. As expected, ever since he’d come back from Imladris, they were getting along better than before. Maybe this was the first chance in a while to not only talk about realm matters or the world around them, but about the two of them. At least he wanted to try.

He could see that his words had made Tarisilya thoughtful. Hopefully, she could now see what had been so heavy on her heart ever since leaving Imladris, in a different light.

In spite of Legolas‘ comforting words, they didn’t really get the conversation going again, although or maybe just because they both had just found something that was occupying their minds equally. "I think, I need to be alone for a while." Tarisilya hemmed and hawed, miserably, hiding her face behind her bangs as she did so often. This was ridiculous. She had been looking forward so much to this meeting, and now she wanted to end it already …

Legolas gently put her hair back from her face, shaking his head to let her know, he didn’t take it personally. "Tomorrow at the same time?"

"I’m looking forward to it." That hardly noticeable touch on her cheek felt so good that she just had to lean into it, prolonging the moment before her heavily beating heart forced her to step back. Tarisilya sensed, vaguely, that advancing with all this too quickly, for both of them could destroy more than it would help at this point. She was completely content with what was happening. Whatever that was.

The soulful look alone that Legolas threw at her when she left, the same she had seen when he’d sung for her in Imladris, was enough to get through many more days of waiting for him.

Legolas expected Tegiend when he suddenly heard someone approaching and braced himself for another tiring debate.

All the more he startled when a much older elf neared him, one looking similar enough to Tarisilya and her brother to immediately guess who it was. Vandrin didn’t need a marchwarden’s armor or one of the warriors of Imladris to inspire awe. His figure was just one thing. It was the aura of millennia of experience that had Legolas bowing, ignoring that strictly speaking, that should have been the other way round, before the other elf even said one word.

"Pardon me, I did not realize, you were nearby." Very bad start. "I mean, I didn’t want to … Well, if you think that ..."

Vandrin looked like he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or to scream at him in outrage. "Legolas Thranduilion, stop stuttering!"

"I’m sorry." Again, from the start. Legolas was trying hard to go for a smile, though he definitely didn’t feel like it. There had to be a reason for Vandrin following Tarisilya. So much for secrets. "I am pleased to finally meet you."

"Considering for how long you’ve been seducing my daughter to go on secret meetings, I doubt that," Vandrin replied, dryly. He eyed Legolas‘ appearance from head to toe without revealing what he thought about it.

Little by little only, Legolas started to realize how disrespectful he had really acted in the last months. Starting with the fact that he was not allowed in this area. Staying by the border like a sullen child, so no one had a right to cast him away, didn’t change that. His impertinence even went as far as deceiving a caring father and getting his daughter to lie to him. He’d let himself be blinded by affection and high spirits, and in his egoism, hurt people without even realizing. All the more worse he felt about it now, and he knew, certain things could never be undone.

"Again, I apologize. The disputes between our realms should not have kept me from introducing myself to you. I assure you, there’s nothing but friendship between your daughter and me …"

One single sharp gesture stopped his flow of words. Vandrin pushed back his dark hair and demonstratively pointed at his ears. "Same as yours. I am not deaf. And in spite of old age, my vision has not suffered either. Even if both would be the case, I couldn’t be emotionally dead enough – which happens too easily on this world –, to not know what’s going on with my children. A father feels when his daughter falls in love. And me, I also followed an elf with my gaze once, the way you just watched Ilya, believe it or not." Strangely enough, Vandrin didn’t really seem mad, only somewhat impatient, as if he wanted to finish this meeting as quickly as possible.

"A warrior of your making should have the courage to admit, what is going on in his heart."

"I’m not sure about that myself," Legolas answered, truthfully. Maybe this wasn’t as bad as expected after all. At least, Vandrin had not called for the guard yet. "If I was, the two of us would have met already, please believe me. I didn’t mean to go behind your back. If there should be anything developing between your daughter and me …"

"Tarisilya is a child, Legolas." Just one sentence, destroying every effort and hope of the last minutes without compromise.

Silence. Ironically enough, a few weeks ago, Legolas probably would have agreed with that opinion. But not after Imladris. Something had changed there. "She’s very mature for her age."

"Of course. She was raised without a mother. Which doesn’t mean, she doesn’t deserve a long childhood. On the contrary. She had to grow up way too quickly. I’m trying to give her all the clearance she needs to bloom. And that’s what I’m asking from everyone else too."

"I see." Legolas nodded slowly and turned away, whistling for Bellar. He couldn‘t stay here any longer, in the place of a defeat that hurt more than many others before.

He thought the conversation to be finished and looked back over his shoulder, frowning, when Vandrin raised that deep voice again that he’d passed on to his children.

"I am not sending you away, Legolas, and definitely not because of your ancestry. Sometimes I wonder who came up with this whole nonsense. My late wife lived in Mirkwood for a long time herself. For that reason alone, I wouldn’t dream of meeting your people with any kind of prejudice. But the situation is as it is, and the two of us won’t change it, not in the foreseeable future. And probably not in these realms either." Vandrin’s gaze turned west for a moment. The same longing was in it that befell every elf when their homesickness for Valinor was awakened by the sea, so much that they would leave Middle-earth forever at some point.

The realization hit Legolas harder than the rejection before. Maybe Tarisilya wouldn’t even be in Lórien much longer. He wondered if Vandrin had told his children. "I still have hope for this world."

"Then you’re even younger than I thought, Prince of Mirkwood." Vandrin shook his head forgivingly.

"Ride back to your own. And go without anger. I’m not denying you my daughter. I only want you to give her time. Once she can find her own way, she’ll be ready to share it with someone. If she still wants you by her side then, that will be fine with me."

More than he could have expected at this point, and if nothing else, at least a small relief. A tiny light in a distant future. Legolas would never even think of going against Vandrin’s wish, of disrespecting his opinion, but that didn’t change that he was facing a difficult time. Only now, knowing that he wouldn’t see Tarisilya for some time, he understood what his own feelings hadn’t really revealed to him so far. His heart had begun to beat for the young elf. Only the beginning of a breeze, sure, but he clearly felt, it would have became something more, if Tarisilya and him had met a few more times. Way too quickly and rushed, that surely was true.

He didn’t like it, but maybe Vandrin was right. "Allow me to tell this to Ilya myself."

"I will not stop her when she leaves Caras Galadhon tomorrow once more. Say good-bye, but keep her heart from sorrow, if you can."

"Of course." It became harder by the second, not getting angry. What was this elf thinking of him? "I wouldn’t do anything to harm Tarisilya."

Maybe Vandrin thought the late time of their meetings suspicious … Honestly offended, Legolas crossed his arms. "If you think, I’ve advanced her in an improper way …"

Vandrin didn’t even need to speak, to make him shut up once more. The look on his face as if he’d bitten into a sour fruit, paired with even more impatience and a hint of pity about so much juvenile naivety, was enough.

"No, of course not. You know her better than that." Legolas decided that the first impression he had left, had been a bad enough one, and quickly left. "Thanks for your honesty."


	8. Chapter 8

" _Get out_."

So much for the hope that Tarisilya had calmed down a little, that after no less than two weeks, she would be tired of lying around in her room alone.

Tegiend already turned to leave, resigned, when he heard a very quiet, suppressed sob coming from the corner of the bed. He had always been there for his sister when she had not felt good. She needed help, whether she knew it or not.

"You won’t get rid of me that easily." Sitting down beside her, he grimaced when his senses picked up on the smell of days without water. "Be glad that Lady Galadriel can’t see you right now. You can’t keep on staying here, feeling sorry for yourself, Ilya."

"Why would you care?" she snapped, unrestrained. "Did ada send you? Does he want to make sure, I'm not having unclean thoughts again? Tell him, he’s done enough damage."

"I’m here because I can’t stand seeing you suffer anymore. If you finally forgot your stubbornness and listened to your wits again for a change, you'd know that." Tegiend was tempted to just let his sister keep on crying. He wouldn’t have tolerated anyone else talking to him like that.

But he missed Tarisilya. At breakfast, on his rides, during his lectures. He was not used to her not being around. He felt lonely and finally wanted to see her cheerful laughter again, when she mastered something better than him, or hear one of her cheeky comments.

As hard as she tried to keep on sulking, after so many days without food and probably without much sleep, she didn't have the strength to argue. "Did you rat me out to ada?”

Something damp fell on Tarisilya’s hand – a tear that had escaped Tegiend’s eyes. "That's what you think of me, really? How blind did your feelings for this elf make you?"

"Of course not. I’m sorry." Tegiend’s honest bewilderment was maybe the first thing getting to Tarisilya, ever since coming home from that clearing by the Celebrant this one night. Without Mawëra, she would probably not even have found the way. "But what do you expect from me? Walking through Lórien with a smile on my face, proudly telling everyone that ada treats me like a toddler?"

"That’s not true, Ilya." That Tegiend could sympathise with Tarisilya‘s, didn’t mean that he couldn’t understand Vandrin as well. Tarisilya was always welcome to cry on his shoulder, but he would not support her anger on their father. "You know exactly that you’re not a prisoner here. If you two would have rebelled against ada’s decision, no one could have changed that. You insist on blaming someone for this, write to Legolas and curse _him_.”

"Isn’t it funny how we always end up at the point, where you can’t stand him?” she barked at him.

"How much I like him or not is completely irrelevant.” Tegiend tiredly shook his head. "You’re the one who’s angry with him, for being more rational than you, and you make ada and me pay for it.”

"I am not angry with him." Tears again, and this time Tarisilya seemed happy when Tegiend took her in his arm and she could cry the memory away.

_"What did he want? That’s a new low, really. He’s actually spying on me now?”_

_"Your father is very worried about you, Ilya."_

_"Yes, that’s what he always says when he plans something that I’ll hate. Why are you looking at me like that?" Enraged, Tarisilya approached Legolas, trying in vain to read in his face what he was about to tell her. "You're leaving me alone, is that it?"_

_"I will come back, Ilya." He couldn’t even look her in the eye anymore. "I’ll be seeing you again …"_

_"When? Once you don’t let others decide on your choices anymore? You promised!"_

_"I‘m sorry, Ilya. I never wanted you to get hurt. I should never have started this in the first place. It would have spared you this pain."_

_"Don’t apologize for_ that _, damn it! I expected more courage from a warrior. I wish you had never come here!" She got Mawëra going so hastily that the animal bristled in protest._

"I hurt him, and now I cannot even apologize." Tegiend was relieved to see that his soft caresses on her back helped gradually drying Tarisilya’s tears. "Why am I so stupid?"

"Not stupid, only confused and hurt." Tegiend gently stroked her too hot, swollen cheeks. He should have realized much earlier what really was so heavy on Tarisilya’s heart.

She was a lot further with her emotional development than his father and him thought. Of course she hated Vandrin’s decision, but she accepted it, mostly because she didn't have much of a choice. She loved both of them too much to just run away, and it looked like Legolas wouldn't want her to do that anyway. Tarisilya was only afraid that she had ruined the last small chance herself, to someday find happiness. The chance that this fire lit in her soul for the first time, would be rekindled at some point.

"I’m sure he knows that you didn’t mean it."

"How? I was being horrible to him. Probably he doesn't even think about me anymore." Tarisilya buried her face in her pillow, so she didn’t have to look at Tegiend. "Maybe he’s going to find someone new soon, some elf more beautiful than me, who won't mean trouble for his father …"

"If that should happen, it is your fate." Instead of calming her down, Tegiend just opened this wound of fear further. Tarisilya had to understand this lesson if she meant to carry on alone. "Then you two are not made for each other. You know what ada keeps on telling us. There is only one partner for each of us in a lifetime. If Legolas is not the one, the Valar sent for you, then you will find your true love someday. But if he is, then you will see him again. I have gotten to know Legolas as a very headstrong, decent elf. He’ll also know it, if you two do belong together. And all those things separating you? You always said that is your strength."

"And in the meantime? I am worried about him. Why do healer-elves always have to be afraid?" Another, much older cause for disagreement flared between them. "He’s always being out there, where so many evil creatures render Middle-earth uncertain. And I’m damned to wait for something to happen to him."

"No one is asking you to just sit around, Ilya." Tegiend pulled her into his arms again. "I already talked to ada. As soon as you are feeling well enough, you’re allowed to do some traveling with us. Ada doesn’t mind you getting to know more of Middle-earth. He just wants you to be safe at it."

"You’re the best!" Tarisilya hugged him close. "I’m sorry for yelling at you."

"Consider it forgotten. Now get up, and get clean. Galadriel wants to finally see you at the dinner table again."

Standing at the door already, it occurred to Tegiend, how he could maybe help Tarisilya with that one vexed matter after all. If it would help her get better, that wasn’t asked too much. In a few decades, this whole thing would probably be forgotten anyway. "Maybe you should let someone else tell Legolas what you feel for him, since you can’t go to him yourself."

"You would do that for me?" she asked, flabbergasted. "You would ride that deeply into Mirkwood? But the way is too far! Ada would not allow that."

"Haldir owes me one," Tegiend replied calmly. "That training injury, you know. Seems, he is having a bit of a bad conscience after all. He will be happy to spend a few days with me. We see many things alike. But only under one condition.”

Softly grabbing Tarisilya’s chin, he placed a soft kiss to her forehead. "You’ll be ready for dinner in not more than an hour, and tomorrow you’ll attend that dance with me. And speaking of it: In three weeks, we are scheduled for dancing lessons. Until then, I want to see you smile again."

"I’ll do my best, I promise." Tarisilya showed a grimace that, by some stretch of the imagination, could nearly count as a grin.

At least about that, Tegiend could laugh.

Legolas had not been training with the marchwardens for a while; most of the courageous, reliable elves in the troops, these days, he saw only seldom. Therefore, he was both surprised and alarmed when one of his oldest friends in the army interrupted his work unexpectedly. If you could call it working, dully staring at the material for a new bow instead of doing something with it. "Is there a problem?"

"Two elves of Lórien have crossed the borders, Legolas. We are watching them. They seem to be on their way here, but they obviously don’t know the way. Shall we bring them before your father?" Lately, it had been a little quieter in Mirkwood than in the last years. Many of the elves were spending their time with boring inspection rounds. Thus, Tauriel seemed all but eager to take a potential threat prisoner.

"I’ll handle this personally." Legolas had jumped to his feet before the she-elf had finished saying the word Lórien, ignoring that Tauriel was trying in vain to hide a grin behind her shoulder-length red hair. He didn't think that Vandrin had changed his mind already, after a few weeks. Nor that he maybe personally wanted to make sure by talking to Thranduil, that Legolas wouldn’t come close to his daughter anymore. But wasn't it possible that something had happened to Tarisilya? The sudden restlessness had him rush to the stables and then spur Bellar to his quickest gallop.

It didn't get better when he neared the unwelcome visitors, on a path covered by tall soft grass that swallowed his steps, an old marchwarden trick. That it was not Vandrin, wasn’t a relief.

He cut off Tegiend and another, remarkable robust Lórien-warden whom he’d never seen before, before they could get even closer to the cave palace and provoke trouble with the soldiers after all. "You have entered foreign areas, elves of Lórien."

"The Crown Prince himself, who would have thought." Tegiend was visibly disgusted by the impersonal greeting, by Legolas refusal to let possible watchers see any connection between the two of them. "Please, do not bother. I guess we got a little lost. We are out of here." He pulled on Avalir’s reins to turn the gelding around, inconspicuously opening the laces of a pouch fastened to his saddle whereupon it dropped down. "Thanks for the warm reception, _Your Highness_."

Legolas decided to rather forgo any reply. Impatiently, he waited for the intruders and the guards who accompanied them without approaching them further than necessary, to be out of sight.

Dismounting hectically, he picked up whatever it was that Tegiend had brought for him. Laying eyes on a book with a moon painted on its red binding, for a moment, he was close to go after Tegiend. If that was Tarisilya’s treasure, he could never have accepted it.

But when he opened the gift, he sighed in relief. Not the same, no. A single T was engraved on the inside of the cover, instead of the N in the original. The first page was filled with a pale, shadowy drawing of Tarisilya’s face that apparently she had done herself. It didn't have a lot of details, but Legolas could see immediately how much effort she’d put in it.

_to remember_

Two single, simple words under the drawing. The rest of the content, Legolas already knew. And still he would gladly read it again, chapter for chapter. Tarisilya had copied it for him to share her most treasured possession, and he would honor that.

For the first time in weeks, a smile brigthened up Legolas’ face.

Disregarding the private chambers of the King and those of Legolas, Thranduil’s palace offered few personal premises, since nearly all other elves had moved to settlements in the woods outside. Therefore, other important localities like factories and training rooms had been installed in many of the grottos and caves, and the halls between. In times of ongoing threat, in the latter especially, there always was intense activity. Only at night, it got quieter. Looking for someone then, you only had to follow noise that beings like Men would not even have noticed as a whisper.

For example, a pretty metaphorical and, admittedly, not very proper cursing from the last training grounds in the southern wing, where archers were trained, and worked on their skills.

"Problems, ion?" His hands folded inside the sleeves of his robe, Thranduil stopped in the entrance of the oval hall.

Instead if turning around, Legolas rather stayed at the material tables with his new bow. "Not until two minutes ago. I can’t tell what‘s wrong. When I wanted to try it …" Frustrated, he leaned back against the moist, uneven wall.

He’d hoped that at this hour, his father would be asleep or at least too busy to come looking for him. For another evening full of side-glances and badly hidden questions about why he had been so quiet in the last months, he didn’t have any patience. "The tension fails as soon as I nock. I can’t say what I did wrong."

"May I?" Thranduil stopped next to him and held the bow into the light of the brightest stalactite of the building brightening this hall day and night. "The holders are loose, that’s all. No reason to scare off the servants with the language of a Moria troll. But that problem will remain until you seal the junction." He pointed at a vessel with resin and candles on the table. "Those are not meant to light the room."

Legolas couldn’t even bring himself to say thank you. He just nodded shortly, took the weapon back and started with what he probably should do after some sleep, and what he still wanted to take care of now. He had worked on this thing long enough. He finally wanted it to do its job.

For minutes, there was nothing but silence. He had half a hope that Thranduil would just retire.

But then his father spoke again, and this time, there was no mistaking the tiredness in his voice. "Sometimes it frightens me, how much you are like your mother, Legolas. I‘d known her long before our wedding already, and still there were times when I rather went for a walk through the woods instead of being with her, without even knowing what was going on. No matter what haunts you, it will not get any better by taking it out on your surroundings."

"I wanted to build that bow by myself, that’s all. You’ve helped me every time. I thought I could do it alone for once." Thranduil had not cared for what was going on in his son for years. Why did he suddenly have to get involved, when Legolas didn’t want to see anyone or anything? He was even too weary of things to go back to traveling, to achieve just that.

"And you would have, if you weren’t staring at that workbench dog tiredly. You overlooked the most obvious, that tomorrow, you would have spotted immediately."

Thranduil meant well but Legolas was not in a mood for lectures. Irritated, he lowered the bow. "Don’t you have things to do?"

He regretted the remark instantly. Hadn’t he planned to improve the relationship to his father not too long ago? "Forgive me. I’m just not feeling too well."

"You think I don’t know that? You and I, we can be quite different, but that does not mean I don’t know my own son, or that I don’t worry about him. But you’re not twenty anymore. I can‘t order you to talk to me if something is weighing you down. Even when it would do you good. That frustration you’re feeling right now, for example? It has no basis at all. This …” Again Thranduil held the bow into the light, a short smile curled on his lips. " … is a masterpiece, in execution as well as in appearance. You put your heart into it and didn‘t come to me for advice even once. That makes me very proud. Mastering a skill doesn’t equal never needing help again. And the same goes for growing up."

The following silence was no longer uncomfortable. Legolas had understood, and now pondered about his father’s counsel.

Thranduil offered him his weapon back. "When did you last try hitting your first notch?"

"At some point, the paneling will just break in two." Legolas laughed quietly. When he’d shot an arrow for the first time in his life, he had left quite the unbecoming scratch far outside the target disc. Thranduil had comforted him back them, just like now, and encouraged him to keep going for that same spot, so at some point he wouldn’t look at it with shame but satisfaction. Moving into these caves, after Sauron had arrived in Mirkwood, they had brought the old paneling along. It now covered the southern area of these halls. The direction at where Dol Guldur was located.

Following Thranduil‘s nod, Legolas went to the stern most training mark and aimed at the hardly visible dot near the upper edge of the beech wood screen.

_So what is it that we’re really aiming at?_

Legolas had to lower his bow before he’d even nocked. All of a sudden, he was filled with such a deep sadness that his vision began to blur. After more than half a year, he had thought to have found some distance. It didn’t take more than a small memory, of Tarisilya’s playful whisper in his ear, her jolly laughter that day, to bring back everything he’d thought processed.

One more night, then it would be year since they had first met.

How many of those anniversaries would pass before the other elf would stand before him again? Would that ever even happen? And if it didn’t, would that wound ever close?

Legolas startled when Thranduil softly touched his upper arms from behind, an affectionate gesture that he had not felt in centuries.

His father was trying. He was trying so hard. And still, he was the last ever allowed to learn what had shaped Legolas‘ last year so profoundly.

But what he did there, felt good, it cast out some of the coldness in Legolas, just like his words earlier. He at least owed Thranduil an explanation. "It is … an elf. I do not think I’ll ever see her again. It will pass."

"It always does, ion. And memories fade when we let them. That’s not always a blessing, the two of us should know.” Just for a moment, Thranduil’s haggard features gave away how much he still mourned his wife, even after all this time.

"But in the eternity of an elf‘s life, it can be the only hope as well, unless one plans to lay down on the next best hill and wait to enter the Halls of Mandos. I am looking forward to the day when you’ll introduce me to the elf who will make you happy. Then these tears will be a thing of the past."

"That’s how it will be." Legolas hoped, his grin did not look half as fake as it felt. He somehow doubted that Thranduil would still be that excited if Legolas ever brought Tarisilya here.

"I will retire now. You were right, a few hours of rest are overdue. I’m happy, we can spend the celebration tomorrow together for a change."

"You could have had that last year already, if you wouldn’t have been late, o beloved child of my loins." Thranduil would not be Thranduil if he had not finished the conversation with yet another reprimand, but his tone and his choice of word revealed that for once, he was without anger.

Legolas answered by cocking an eyebrow only. He took two more steps to the door, then turned abruptly and shot the first arrow of his new bow, that deepened his first notch on the target wall another inch.

"I’m afraid, you’re looking to the sky in vain tonight, child of the moon." Lady Galadriel joined Tarisilya on the viewing balcony of the celebration talan, bringing two glasses of which she handed one to her. "No arguing. Your father cannot see that yet, but you are old enough."

"He has a talent for that, yes," Tarisilya murmured, muffled. She emptied all of the wine in one go and put the glass down on the floor. "I didn’t mean to be rude, milady. I will be back in a few minutes."

"It is the right of every elf to retire. If you rather spend your time thinking, stay here. Your father and brother are too busy with conversation with the marchwardens to miss you much. Just like my husband, by the way." Lady Galadriel looked back over her shoulder, into the hall. A smile curled on her lips, followed by a shake of her head, a movement so small, you could miss it if you didn’t know it well, and her whole gesture, forged by millennia of deliberateness.

"Your friend, the sky, will not help you with your consideration tonight though. A storm is coming. The stars are veiled." Closing her eyes, Lady Galadriel neared the edge of the unsecured platform, not one single step too far or too short, to let the wind blow some clarity into her mind after all the antsy noise inside. "The darkness is returning. It is like pure blackness drowning my soul. The time will come when we can only save this world together. I pray that until then, this awareness will have reached every heart in realms of both Elves and Men."

Tarisilya stayed silent. She would love to know whom and what Galadriel meant, but such questions could go the wrong direction too easily. If their leader was tired of the conflicts among elves, why where they still existing? Why did things have to be so difficult?

"Do not let these be your worries, child of the moon, not for a long while."

Galadriel reached back for Tarisilya, without turning her head. "Come to me."

It wasn’t wise to ignore a request of Galadriel, even when you weren’t in the mood for advice. Tarisilya struggled to get to her feet, and joined her longtime friend. She hardly felt stepping on a twig, though it had unusual sharp edges and she left a bloody footprint on the stony surface. It had been a while since she had last worn shoes. After returning from Imladris, she had made this a habit, and by now, she couldn’t imagine doing it differently anymore.

"Anything special I should be paying attention to?” She had no patience for games tonight.

"Only your feelings." Galadriel looked her over lovingly, until she had to lower her head. "You can’t keep on carrying your grief with you. It’s spreading, just like the vision of darkness clouding my soul. Your burden is an easy one, child of the moon, because it is short-lived. It will make you stronger.”

"Right now, I more feel like it’s destroying me," Tarisilya answered quietly. "And it doesn’t even hurt as much as in the beginning. Ada shows me so many new things, every day … I know now that life has much more to offer before I can commit to anything. But that’s exactly what makes the loneliness worse. These feelings in me exist, milady. They will not go away, like my brother and my father are hoping. They are only getting stronger. Through all my learning, this one aim will ever stay alive. Never have I felt something so strong, not even the power of the moon. Am I not disgracing this happiness by pushing it so far into the background?"

"Look into your heart, child of the moon. You already know the answer." With just a fingertip, Galadriel tenderly stroked her hair that had gotten a lot longer in the last months, and then left her alone.

For minutes, Tarisilya stayed alone, frustrated and confused by the aborted conversation. Why was she always put off with mysterious words when she really wanted to know something for a change?

A strong draft nearly threw her off balance. She quickly had to step back, an embarrassed chuckle on her lips. Why was she even standing here, trying to follow suit to Galadriel? She wasn’t Galadriel. She was not even a real elf yet. She was not mastered, she was immature, emotional, too vulnerable and above all, damn insecure.

All of that, her father had told her in a calm conversation, one without mutual accusations, long after Tarisilya had sent that book to Legolas. Just as friendly as ruthless, he had made her realize that she would never achieve real progress if she didn’t work on those flaws.

Tarisilya was only just beginning to develop, that was the truth. Many difficult setbacks waited for her, worse ones than losing a friend who had promised to come back to her anyway. How should she ever become ready for her own life if she didn’t learn how to let go? Legolas wouldn’t want her to drown in self-pity and accept every improvement only begrudgingly, because she wished to be back at that time when she had felt a hint of the blessing of love for the first time.

She would grow up for millennia to come, if she didn’t free her soul. Tarisilya refused having to wait that long for Legolas.

"I miss you," she whispered to the stormy night, chocked. In spite of herself, she went back to the edge of the platform, her eyes closed just like Galadriel, let the wind play around her body without fighting it, and allowed the tears falling down her cheeks, until they stopped all by themselves.

"Are you alright, Ilya?" Even Tegiend‘s eager discussion with Haldir had not distracted him enough to not notice Tarisilya‘s absence. Some instincts, a brother apparently could never lose.

Minutes ago, Tarisilya would have been annoyed about the exaggerated worry. Now she turned around, an honest smile on her lips, and reached out to Tegiend, so he could safely lead her back to the door. "Not yet, no. But someday."


	9. Chapter 9

_T.A. 2417_

Having brothers could be wonderful. Older brothers, at least, who protected you when your father was too strict and only ever saw your mistakes. Who taught you how to ride and shoot a bow, and who kept all your secrets. Or younger brothers, an acceptable alternative. You could take care of those and read stories to them, you could help raise them and make them an ally against your father’s paranoia …

But brothers of the same age were a punishment from the Valar. Especially twin brothers.

When they had been little, granted, things had been funny. Always wearing the same clothes and fooling other elves, that was a fond memory. Some or the other boring exercise even, they had gotten out of, by sending the other to attend, and no one had noticed. Making sure to keep the same hair length had some advantages.

However, at some point, every elf grew up. And at the latest, when a twin brother suddenly thought to know everything better, one started to wish to be born an only child.

" _Ilya_!"

Sighing, Tarisilya leaned back against the trunk of a broad birch and tapped the back of her head against it a few times. Why had she let Vandrin persuade her to allow Tegiend of all people once more, to accompany her to Imladris? Any marchwarden could have dealt with this. After all, her father kept on having great connections to Lady Galadriel. Someone could easily have been relieved off their duties for a few days.

But no, every time, Tarisilya felt the longing for Imladris flare up in her soul, Tegiend got it into his head to visit certain old friends, whom he otherwise never seemed to miss. Tarisilya’s annoyed speculation that he just didn’t want to let her go alone, he always brushed aside with a shocked shaking of his head. And their father, of course, always fell for it.

So much for the summer in freedom she’d been hoping for. She couldn’t even retire to a stream for five minutes, to wash off some traces of an exhausting ride. " _What_?"

"You’re not supposed to wander off!" Approaching her on his stallion, Tegiend regarded Tarisilya‘s halfway unbuttoned dress with a grimace. "Can’t you wait until we arrive? What if someone spots you like this? If ada could see you now!"

"I don’t share a marchwarden’s neglectful concept of personal hygiene." One eyebrow raised, Tarisilya stared to where Tegiend had come from.

For Haldir, such gestures usually were enough to make her brother obey. Unfortunately, for Haldir’s absolute authority, she missed the bright blond hair and an immensely broad back as well as the aura of a warg on the hunt.

Not to mention, Tegiend probably only listened to his best friend so often, because for a century or two now, the two of them seemed unable to decide, if a life of constant good-natured competition was really what they wanted. Regardless if it was about their success at securing the borders, or about who got to ask an elf or she-elf out for a dance, when both of them were interested – which happened conspicuously often ... And then there were days when they seemed to consider stopping this unworthy dance altogether, and just move onto the next best talan together.

Unfortunately, Tarisilya doubted that anything would change about that before this Age ended. It would be way too easy, if her brother suddenly became too busy to watch her.

Well, at least as of late, the whole thing spared Tarisilya the usual whispering at festive gatherings, which in the past had more than once revolved around the question if Haldir would be asking _her_ out anytime soon.

"Get dressed, Ilya." Tegiend ignored the dig. Exaggeratedly thorough, he looked around on the steep hill to make sure, no one was there to gape at his sister. Not that this someone would have lived long enough to enjoy the memory then.

It was too hot, and Tarisilya was too tired for a discussion, so she gave in, not without a few more unfriendly remarks about marchwardens who had learned too much from their captains.

"Happy now?" Grumbling, she mounted her mare and rode back to the overgrown, deserted wooden path that Tegiend and her had chosen, in agreement for a change. "I’m not twenty anymore. Stop treating me like I don’t know what I am doing."

"There was a time when I thought I could," was the bitter answer. "That was before you shamelessly lied to both me and ada and used trips to Imladris for that. So please indulge me rather going sure, you’re not having second thoughts."

"That was more than three hundred years ago!" Tarisilya‘s hands immediately were hard fists around the reins. It took effort to sound aggressive, instead of letting her brother see how painful his words were for her, once again.

Tegiend knew exactly how he could hurt her the most. And ever since he had understood that Tarisilya didn’t even think of giving up on her dream, he never got tired of it. But if he hoped that by constantly reminding her of the beginning of this millennium, he could talk her out of her feelings for an elf whom he didn’t want by her side, he wasn’t doing himself a favor.

With every jibe on mistakes that their father had long forgiven, Tarisilya‘s defiance grew, and she held on to the pictures of that elf in her memory even tighter.

Eyes that seemed to look into her very soul. Warm laughter in a treetop high above Lórien.

A comforting touch when she was crying, that she could not accept from Tegiend anymore.

"You should let Lord Elrond hire you as a guard for the summer, first thing. Then you‘ll stay in shape and can stop anyone at the border, whose face you don’t like. I have no desire to suffer you from dusk till dawn even on holiday anyway.” That was mean and a little unfair; she regretted it as soon as she had said it. But Tegiend’s words were still echoing too loudly in her mind to apologize.

"Don’t worry." With his head held high, her brother brought his horse to gallop. "Three months without seeing your depressed face and your infantile pouting? No way, I‘ll miss out on that."

Sighing, Tarisilya stayed on a little distance, so they wouldn’t get on each other’s nerves at least for the next few minutes. Yes, it was about time they arrived.

In spite of the piercing silence on the rest of the way, laying eyes on of the gap of Imladris made every fight forgotten. Tegiend and Tarisilya exchanged smiles, both lost in memory. No matter how deeply they were rooted in Lórien, leaving the Bruinen riverbed behind to enter the valley beyond, never failed to impress. The cloudless sky provided a clear view on the mountaintops and promised a hot, dry summer. This still being one of the most undisturbed realms in all of Middle-earth, they both gladly kept on returning here, ever since their first visit.

That their mother had often spent time in Imladris as well, was one of the most important reasons for that, its ruler's hospitality was another. Since the hostility between Vandrin and Lord Elrond had still not completely vanished, the latter had no obligation to offer Tarisilya and Tegiend housing at all, yet he always greeted them with an honest smile when they passed the city gate.

While his wife had acted slightly reserved during their first visits, this time she waited for them by Elrond's side, and seemed just as pleased with seeing them as him.

Tarisilya‘s anger crumbled away with every foot more, they rode into the city. Dismounting, once they had reached the palace yard, she curtsied respectfully. "Milord … milady. Thank you for another friendly invitation."

"You know, you are always welcome in this valley, child of the moon." Lord Elrond‘s hasty sounding greeting had her listen up. This elf usually was a prime example for composure. When his voice betrayed impatience, an openly hounded expression darkening in his eyes, that could only mean trouble.

A few hundred years ago, Tarisilya would have just asked, but the sight of the unusually pale elves, of their restless looks, their agitated movements, quickly made her shut up. If something was really wrong, she would learn about that soon enough.

"May we retire, milord?" she asked, carefully, because Elrond had gone back to staring into the distance, absently, and his wife, after her cordial greeting, kept her head low.

"Of course. Forgive my negligence, please." Elrond squared his shoulders. "The last years were riddled with unsettling visions. These days, every look to the outside is like a herald of darkness."

"What kind of visions?" Granted, Vandrin had not made it to rid Tarisilya of her curiosity completely after all.

She had come to appreciate Lord Elrond too much for that. She didn’t like how he looked right now, with this … helplessness. Someone like Elrond was _never_ helpless.

Though she could feel Tegiend’s annoyed look in her back, at least her cheekiness helped the Lord find his smile again. "These are not your worries, child of the moon. You two have seen way too few summers for that. I just want you to know why some things will be different this summer. There will be more guards on duty, for example, and we will have less time for going on rides together. But I’m sure you will still find the peace you’re looking for."

"Of course, milord."

Tarisilya showed another of her prettiest curtsies, and at Lord Elrond’s behest, followed his wife to the stables, her thoughts still lingering over the unusual welcome. She was tempted to ask Lady Celebrían about these forebodings, and especially about who was having them. Except for Lady Galadriel, she didn’t know anyone who had mastered the gift of premonitions so well. And Galadriel surely would have told her, if there was any kind of danger waiting for her in Imladris …

"Don’t let my overly worried husband spoil your visit." When they stopped at the mews, Lady Celebrían eyed Tarisilya’s hair that nearly reached down to her waist by now, an affectionate sparkle in her eyes. "You changed quite a bit, child of the moon."

"Everyone’s been telling me that lately." Sighing, Tarisilya delivered her mare to one of the grooms, with a thankful nod. "Somehow, I just don’t feel it."

"You will, soon enough." A knowing chuckle left Celebrían's soft round face beaming in the same way that made her daughter stand out from others so much. For a moment, she looked more like Arwen than ever.

Which reminded Tarisilya how much she had missed Arwen especially. Ever since their first meeting, strong ties of friendship had formed between the two of them. Even though this visit would probably not bring that what Tarisilya in a way was vaguely hoping: It definitely couldn’t hurt to relax here for a while, before the long journey that her father was planning to take Tegiend and her on, so much bigger than the few short travels to the surrounding areas of Lórien a while ago.

"Thank you, milady."

"We will be expecting you two for dinner, of course. The twins will be very happy to see you again," Celebrían explained, mostly in Tegiend’s direction.

"Arwen will return from a trip to the mountains in a few days only, but I doubt, you will get bored." She winked at Tarisilya. "In one of his letters, your father mentioned that you discovered your passion for reading."

"Better late than never." Tarisilya blushed. She had taken a long much time to start wiping out her deficits in several areas of knowledge. It had always been so much more interesting in the past, romping around outside, getting to know every single spot of Lórien and annoying the guards, Haldir especially, or breaking speed records on her horse.

"Ada said, you could maybe lend me a few books about the history of elven realms."

Celebrían laughed, with her head tilted back, so loudly that a few of the grooms looked startled. Apparently, there wasn't much laughter at the court of Lord Elrond these days.

"Milady?"

"In principle, your father is right. ‚A few’ just doesn’t quite cover."

After Celebrían had described the way to the library in the subsurface palace area in detail, Tarisilya found it alone; she knew her way around in this building well enough for that by now.

Tegiend, unsurprising, had already been gone without a trace when she had come back from the washing room. Elladan and Elrohir had never missed a chance to persuade her brother to go on some kind of adventure; it wouldn't be any different this summer.

Celebrían's remark should have prepared Tarisilya for a surprise. Yet she stood still in the doorway for several minutes, completely overwhelmed. Not only had she never seen so many books before; the room radiated a charm unfamiliar to elves who preferred to live in telain. While Tarisilya couldn’t stay in a ground-level building for longer than a few months without feeling constricted and missing the song of birds right outside her window, the newborn air of a treetop ... She had always greatly admired the fascinating art of construction practiced by Imladris elves.

In here, as well, she didn’t even know where to look first. This room was _huge_ ; it was also so tall that a tree could easily be planted in here. The walls were painted in an auburn tone, emphasizing the impression of standing in some weird woods of knowledge. Countless white bookshelves seamed every wall, reaching up to the ceiling. The topmost rows could only be accessed by these ladders leaning against the shelves. Unlike the naked walls, the ceiling was decorated with a vast painting depicting the last big battle of the war, the place where the dead marshes were located now. Artful lusters of glass hung from the ceiling, each blown into a different form, as if the furniture was trying to tell a story already.

Across the room, diagonally displaced, a few slightly smaller shelves had been built, each just as jam-packed as the big ones. It looked like there was not even space for one more piece in here. Except for a few sitting areas, there was no other furniture, and none was needed. This hall had only one purpose. Tarisilya could easily imagine one or the other elf spending hundreds of years in here, shielded from the world outside, busy only with absorbing knowledge and entertainment.

She wouldn’t have that long, but there definitely would be enough to do for her this summer. Taking her first steps into the room, she hesitated again though. How were you supposed to _find_ anything in here?

Only on second sight, she spotted the signs on the sides of the shelves, pointing out, how things were sorted. A precise, easily understandable system, almost too detailed if you were only curious about the history of elves. At every step, Tarisilya came across something tempting her to browse through it. But then she’d still be trying to choose something when tomorrow came.

Slightly frustrated, she stopped in the middle of the room, on the verge of just grabbing a book in her favorite color. There wasn't anyone she could ask, the reading corners all were empty. Though elves didn’t make much difference between day and night, between heat and coldness, most rather seemed to enjoy being outside when the weather was so nice.

An especially comfortable looking sofa at the other end of the hall attracted her attention. Cocking her head, she neared a seating area that looked different from the others, equipped with a massive black desk. An utter chaos of parchment and books covered the surface. Behind that, a chair with its back carved into broad spikes, it almost looked like a string of sword blades. The sofa, just as extravagant, made of expensive, polished wood and solid leather, but rumpled, like someone was sleeping here often. And next to it, on a glass pedestal … Actually, this was none of her business, but Tarisilya couldn’t resist approaching the waist-high platform, eying the unclosed book on it.

It was huge, measuring nearly an arm’s length. The binding was an eye-catcher already, an abstract pattern of delicately woven black and golden threads. On the cover, someone had sewn on the image of a black big cat, that had become rare in these lands. The golden shimmering pages looked nearly too precious, too valuable to write on them, but the owner of the book didn't seem to mind. Nearly three-fourths of it was filled, with the same sober handwriting that graced the shelves. Easy to read, in theory, if it wouldn’t be so small, if the line pitch would be larger.

Tarisilya had to bend down a little to make out anything at all. The ink was fresh; the entry on this page had only just been created.

*** ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ***

_… like a white blossom. Yet one cannot help the question thrust upon one’s heart: As even the golden leaves one day will fall forever, withered in the view of what shall not be uttered … What could taint such an unquestionable beauty? Which pain will it be that the order of things lays upon this face of innocence? What evil can darken the epitome of purity?_

_Or is it maybe possible after all, to change the fate of all life? What would be required to do so? How much is justified to protect the innocent?_

*** ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ***

"Looking for something special?"

Tarisilya backed away so fast that she tripped and hit her head on the shelf behind her, seeing stars for a moment. Contritely, rubbing the aching spot, she turned to the aisle where the unfamiliar voice had come from. "Not really. There’s way too many interesting things in here for that."

"Oh, really?" The elf who had startled her so much dropped two books on the desk, so noisily that Tarisilya winced again. The working place was his then. "That’s why you are standing in the only private area of this library?"

Tarisilya had meant to apologize but the disproportionately cranky behavior annoyed her. She wasn’t an elfling to be intimidated by an arrogantly raised chin and hands put on one’s hips. "If it is so private, you should consider separating your office with a door."

"That's never been necessary," was the cutting answer. The elf pushed her aside like a troublesome piece of furniture and closed the book. "Usually, my privacy is respected in these halls."

Tarisilya was about to state another point but just sighed them. He was right of course. One day, her unspeakable curiosity would get her in some real trouble. "I am sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Again, she rubbed the back of her head. The beginning heavy throb of a headache was another punishment for her mistake.

Feeling rather pierced by the stranger’s dark eyes, she looked at the pedestal again, and the mysterious piece of work. "It's beautiful."

That seemed to surprise the elf as much as it pleased him, too. A quick smile curled on his pale lips. "Sit down." Far gentler now, he led Tarisilya to the sofa, got behind it and examined the bruise on her head without even asking, ignoring Tarisilya’s attempts to escape his touch. "Keep still! There is blood. Lower your head."

Tarisilya heard him rummage in a drawer before the spicy smell of healing herbs penetrated the air. "Not those," she groaned, parrying. "Totally fulsome for such a small wound. Don’t you have hillside herb?"

"Only for breakfast," was the astounded reply. "You know the ways of healing?"

"Apparently better than you do," Tarisilya answered dryly. "Ask the Lord if you don’t believe me. Some things that I know about my profession, he has taught me."

"Herbology was never my strong suit, I admit.” The elf took the desired herb leaves out from another drawer and mixed them up with water from a jug, creating a thin paste.

"Did you really read it?" The sudden uncertain tone didn’t quite match the rest of the manner of the black-clad stranger.

Apparently, Tarisilya had unintentionally touched a sore spot. Hence why she reluctantly put up with the elf pulling her hair aside and spreading the tincture on her wound, though she could easily have done that herself. She didn’t like it when people came too close to her, but this had been a first meeting made awkward by both sides, and he was trying to make amends. Going some distance as well, to make sure that she wouldn’t get angry nonstop instead of finding relaxation in these halls in the next months, was a small sacrifice.

"Just a few lines. It's very touching. You seemed to think about someone special when you put that down."

For a hardly noticeable moment, the touch upon her scalp stopped. He took too long to answer. Another sore spot, great. Tarisilya really had a talent for finding those.

"The book doesn’t have a particular theme. It is more a series of impressions. I don’t think I’ll ever finish it. But it doesn’t matter. No one will ever read it anyway."

"Why?" Frowning, Tarisilya looked up at the stranger.

This time, it was only half a grin that he showed when he shrugged. "Tales are being told by people who go to war. No one cares about life in the second row."

"I would read it," Tarisilya stated, impulsively. When the elf paused again, she blushed immediately. But that was exactly what she felt. Who knew better what it was like, waiting at home while others went to battle, than someone who wasn't allowed learning how to fight? "I just doubt that one summer would be enough for that. How long is this thing supposed to be in the end?"

"I will know when I’m getting there." Absently, the stranger went to the pedestal and traced the book binding with his fingertips, just as tenderly as he’d touched Tarisilya’s skin. "When I started, the back fit the palm of my hand. This is the sixth version."

"You copy everything when one book is filled? Why don’t you just continue in a new one?" How could anyone have patience for such a useless activity? Tarisilya already went mad when she was kept in a closed room for too long.

"Why the hurry? Only by constantly questioning yourself, you can improve.” After shaking his head in melancholy, the elf shortly bowed to Tarisilya. "My duties are waiting for me."

"Forgive me, I didn’t mean to keep you.” Tarisilya quickly got up. A little too quickly; she felt dizzy at once and had to hold on to the sofa backrest.

"Be careful." The elf softly pressed down on her shoulder to make her sit again. "You better rest for a while, or I’ll have to take you to the halls of healing after all, and then Lord Elrond will lecture _both_ of us. Have a good day, Tarisilya."

"You know my name?" Flabbergasted, she watched him leave.

"I live underground, not in an orc cave. Right next to the entrance, you can find a shelf with Lord Elrond’s own books, by the way. If you don’t mind a critical voice about Men and their human abysses, start with those."

Thrown off guard once more, Tarisilya watched the elf vanish between some shelves, without a sound, as if the strange encounter had never happened. Only now she realized, she didn’t even know his name.


	10. Chapter 10

Tarisilya was usually the one in her family who took the most time to get presentable in the morning. Not because she was concerned for her looks so much, but to maintain a certain image by her father’s side. And because she had way too many things to wear. Vandrin kept on showering her with new dresses and jewelry, so she wouldn’t even dream of wearing breeches like when she had been younger.

But after getting lost in a first long book with increasing enthusiasm and returning to the guesthouse, it was Tegiend she found standing in front of a mirror, fidgeting with his marchwarden armor, trying to smooth out the dark grey fabric long too worn to still look good, and to get stains off the polished silver metal that time had strongly burned in. He was a wreck.

"Who’s coming for dinner?"

"Why?" He tried his best to sound angry about their quarrel still.

"You're never wearing your armor when you’re off duty, unless you’re trying to impress someone.” Amused, Tarisilya stopped behind him and picked at the collar of the tunic under his chest plate to straighten it out. "Besides, you were gone all day. So, who is it?"

"Lord Glorfindel." Sighing, Tegiend turned to her. "You know me way too well."

"Glorfindel, seriously? Balrog slayer, war hero of all the Ages?" Even Tarisilya who seldom knew what to do with tales about battles, was impressed. They’d never run into the general of Lord Elrond’s guards on any of their visits, he was always quite busy.

"Lord Elrond hosts a reception to honor the friendship between Lórien and Imladris." Tegiend sounded uneasy. Such a gathering would put the two of them at the center of attention. "I don’t want the Lord to have a bad impression of the marchwardens. See if you can spot him anywhere. I don’t want to be late."

"And not too early either, right? We can't have anyone think, you’re waiting for him half as impatiently as you do.” Chuckling, Tarisilya leaned out of the bedroom window, so far that Tegiend had to grab her dress, so she wouldn't lose balance. It was the only way to see the forecourt of Lord Elrond’s palace from here. "Quite tall, strong-built, golden hair?"

"Damn, he’s there already? Get changed, quickly, we need to leave!" Tegiend hectically started to fumble with his hair. "Are my braids symmetrical enough?"

"I doubt that's his criterion for sympathy." Tarisilya rolled her eyes. "Do you want to talk to him or flirt with him? Besides, he’s wearing a festive robe."

"He’s what?" At a loss at last, Tegiend sank onto the bed. "But then I won’t fit there. Go without me. Tell Lord Elrond, I’m tired from traveling."

"A soldier who tires so easily? I thought you didn’t want to embarrass the guard? We have half an hour left. Enough time for you to …” Tarisilya opened the closet and got something out from the very back that Lady Celebrían had prepared, as she had earlier revealed to her. Grinning, she held out a dark green velvet robe to her brother, slightly waisted, with a golden belt sewn onto it, and blue garments to wear underneath. "Lord Elrond sends his regards."

Scandalized, Tegiend put his hands on his hips. "You knew about that and leave me here to suffer?"

"Revenge," Tarisilya grinned cheekily. "For always picking on me. Now will you redress or should I tell the Lord that you’re too exhausted?” She pretended to leave the room, taking the robe with her.

"Oh, you!" Tegiend jumped to follow her and headed her off easily when she tried to escape, with a jolly squeak. Carefully, to not hurt her with the solid metal of his armor, he pressed her against the door and tickled her until she gasped for mercy. "Will you ever do that again?"

"Never, I swear!" she promised, spluttering. "Let go of me or we’ll never be ready in time.” Suddenly it was like they were elflings again, and nothing bad had ever happened between them. They probably thought the same, sighing sadly when Tegiend stepped back and the seriousness of routine returned, much too quickly, much too frustratingly.

But who could order them to live this severity, even when they were alone, when no one was looking? "Why does it have to be like that?” Tarisilya took Tegiend’s hand for a moment when she gave him the clothes. "Let us try at least, to make things as they were. I miss you. Please don‘t be angry with me anymore."

"And I miss your laughter." Sighing, Tegiend straightened her hair that the little fight had mussed up. "You hurt me, and I am afraid that someday, you will do it again, but I don’t want to blame you any longer. Just remember that I am worried about you. I only don’t want you to get hurt. Whatever you love so much about this valley that here of all places, far from home, your eyes are shining like they haven’t in hundreds of years: Promise me, it will stay like that. That you‘re going to look ahead."

Tarisilya was confused. She didn’t feel any different than in Lórien. Was it now Tegiend, trying to tell her when she was changing?

Maybe his own excitement made him see things that weren’t there. His anew demand to get rid of her feelings for Legolas at the latest, made every short cheerfulness vanish for good. She would not do that just to please him; he really should know that by now.

On the other hand, Tegiend was always there for her, and not only to control her. He deserved it that she tried her best, to not spend the time with nothing but sadness until someday, she would meet Legolas again.

"I’ll do my best.” Hugging him tightly, she quickly kissed his cheek.

"Thank you. That is a big relief, really."

Tegiend pulled her along to the cabinet, to leave the painful matter behind. "What will you be wearing? Please don’t embarrass me at dinner, you hear me?"

"You mean, I could tell the great Lord how Haldir beat you up in your first training?” Tarisilya baited him. "Or how you two fell into that mud pit, because you couldn’t agree on who got to ask that one warrior out for midsummer celebrations …"

" _Ilya_!"

"Don’t panic." She quickly fled before he could nudge her. "Just making sure, you won’t be spilling any beans about me either. Remember, I got some bargaining chips."

Tegiend somehow made it not to act offended, especially since he shared Tarisilya’s love for simple, practical clothes and had never worn a robe before. Tarisilya had to help him put it on.

In return, he tied the corset of that dress for her that Lady Celebrían had brought, in her favorite color red, without any ornaments that would have diverted the audience's attention from her face. "Wonderful.” Very pleased, he put a tiara on Tarisilya’s head, made of silver with a crystal mallorn welded in it. A gift of Lady Galadriel, before they had left. Tegiend braided it in her hair so complicatedly that she wouldn’t be able to take it off after five minutes. "Don’t make that face. It suits you."

"I’ll remind you if you ever have to wear something like that.” Until now, the idea of that reception had seemed quite exciting to Tarisilya. But being dolled up as if she was getting married, she realized that tonight, Tegiend and her would have to represent their realm without their father as an Ambassador for the first time.

She suddenly found herself wishing to be back in the library.

The initial nervousness only grew when Tarisilya and Tegiend entered the small celebration hall of the palace, where dinner would be served. Everyone else seemed to have arrived already; they politely stood up when her brother led her into the room.

"Please apologize." Hurrying to overcome the short fright, Tarisilya lifted the hem of her skirt a little and curtsied. "We are being late."

"The right of a beautiful elf, they say," a voice that sounded strangely familiar remarked behind her. "Which unfortunately, I cannot claim for myself, but I hope, my seat is still reserved for me."

It was the elf whom Tarisilya had met in the library, who greeted her with a fleeting smile and then placidly sauntered to the head of the table, where indeed an empty chair was waiting between Lord Elrond and Glorfindel.

"It always is, even though it’s become dusty." Lord Elrond was visibly astonished by his librarian’s presence. "When last I had the pleasure of welcoming you to a gathering like this, Arwen couldn’t even talk or walk yet."

The elf froze just as he was about to take a seat – unbidden, as the first one and before the Lord, which the etiquette actually forbade for all of these reasons. "If you rather want me to leave …"

"Don’t be ridiculous. I am happy to see you."

Elrond motioned Tarisilya and Tegiend to come closer and take the chairs prepared for them, made of such a heavy white wood that Tarisilya was glad to have her brother pull it out for her.

"I believe, not all of you have met.” Once they were seated, Lord Elrond started the mandatory round of introductions. He began with the very elf whom Tarisilya had wondered about all afternoon, about whom she was even more curious now. "Tarisilya Vandriniel and Tegiend Vandrinion of the realm of the Galadhrim have come to visit us once more this summer. Child of the moon, Tegiend – my chief advisor Erestor, my biggest support in governing this realm as well as in managing my library."

"We have run into each other earlier." Tarisilya tried her best to digest the short moment of being taken aback.

It wasn’t the first surprise, that elf was giving her but surely the strongest. His particular demeanor in these jet black robes, a color only few elves liked to wear, and then his evidently quite casual concept of politeness … Someone like that holding such a prominent position, was hard to believe.

At least Tarisilya now understood why he hadn't finished his book yet. She wondered if his very pale skin color came from him never leaving his place of work.

Feeling a pervasive stare on her, she turned to look into a pair of piercing bright eyes in a very youthful face, framed by a fleece of golden hair that was having a place in the books of legends of Middle-earths for millennia. There was no hint of a smile on Glorfindel’s face. He seemed to feel animosity towards her before they had exchanged a single word.

It unsettled Tarisilya so much that she couldn’t remember half of the names that Elrond then mentioned. So she just tried to smile, to nod and to answer small compliments with humble gratitude. With the eyes of one of the most famous warriors of Middle-earth on you, remembering rules was hard, especially when you had never quite understood them anyway. Keep your back straight, don’t wear your head too high and not too low, never put your arms on the table and definitely never fold them, keep your hands away from your hair, don’t ask, only answer … If someone later would want to know with whom she’d had dinner this evening, she probably wouldn’t even remember a single guest.

"Now let us turn to meat and drinks," Elrond finished. "Rejoice in this chance to strengthen our bonds to other realms. There's been little chance for that lately. The tales about a new shadow never seem to cease. The solidarity among the remaining of us, towards those who are always allowed to escape brawls between other elven realms in this valley, is more important than ever."

Tarisilya‘s heart immediately started to beat faster. Maybe the little hope that she’d had since her father had asked her if she wanted to spend the last summer before their big journey far from home, wasn't in vain after all. Somehow, she managed to rein in her impatience until a servant had poured out a first round of wine and Tegiend was addressed by Glorfindel, whereupon the two of them finally turned their attention away from her.

"Are you expecting more visitors of elven realms, milord?" Although she tried her best to sound casual, she immediately saw at least three people staring at her, not only Celebrían but Elladan and Elrohir, too – and those two promptly sported a broad grin.

Tarisilya should have remembered that the twins had witnessed most of the whole thing, especially in the halls of healing, when Tarisilya had met Legolas on the balcony.

Elrond sounded as if he could hardly suppress a chuckle himself. "I’m afraid I will have to disappoint you, child of the moon. If you want to meet someone who's barred from entering your realm, you will have to write to him and ask him to come here."

Tarisilya stifled the sarcastic answer that a carrier pigeon from Lórien would probably die a nasty death before it could even come close to the Elvenking's Halls. If it wasn’t shot down by one of her brother's arrows first.

"That's alright." She tried her best to not let her disappointment show. No reunion then. It would have been too easy. "The Prince of Mirkwood and me, we mostly leave it to chance if our paths will cross or not. It’s been too long, and the differences between our people are too big to maintain a friendship across such a distance."

"I am well aware of that. One of the big problems of our time, which is far out of even my influence." Bitterness deepened that already haggard expression around Elrond’s eyes. For a moment too long, they lingered on his glass.

"For that reason alone, under different circumstance, my invitation of course would have reached Mirkwood as well. But though he would never admit it: His Majesty Thranduil needs his son by his side right now. There would have been nothing but needless dispute, and another miserable face in this valley darkening the sun. That would not have been in your interest."

"I see. Thanks you for your efforts anyway." With that, Tarisilya left the subject behind. She had promised Tegiend something. The annoyed look on his face revealed that he was angry with her already, for being unable to stop herself from asking.

For the other pair of twins at the table, the conversation didn’t seem to be finished just yet though. "It’s getting ridiculous," Elrohir murmured. "The trade relations are frozen, and the Men in the woods keep on complaining, to us of course, because they don’t dare go to him … Hasn’t he suffered in beauty long enough?"

"Has something happened to the King?" This time, Tarisilya ignored Tegiend’s impatient snort as well as his kick under the table. If he insisted on sharing the other Galadhrim‘s aversion against Mirkwood, she couldn’t change that. But she certainly wouldn‘t be part of that. She had always thought this prejudice stupid.

"Do not even news like these reach Lórien?" Even someone usually as meek as Celebrían looked disgruntled. "It is but a miracle that the Valar still allow us access to Valinor, considering how long this absurd feud has been going on." No, Lord Elrond‘s wife was not half as untroubled as she’d tried to pretend in the afternoon. That was the second glass of wine already for her; her hand seemed restless. She appeared older, more worn down than Tarisilya remembered her.

"But that‘s probably not a story, His Majesty likes to boast about either. A few decades ago, he has suffered bad injuries from fighting a Mirkwood spider. His folk was worried for many months, if he would even survive. It's only thanks to the help of my husband that Mirkwood is not ruled by his son now." She shortly put a hand on Elrond’s arm. "The recovery still advances very slowly. The Prince almost never leaves his side."

"One should think, the King has fought enough spiders in his woods since Sauron moved into Dol Guldur, to not let one of them eat him," Elladan commented.

"Maybe he should be drinking less," Elrohir added, provoking approving laughter from all sides.

Tarisilya didn’t join in, and she saw Erestor just shaking his head, with tight lips, as well. What was that, they had said about tolerance towards other elves just now? She could only imagine how horrible it must have been for Legolas, seeing his father on the brink of death. Even though according to his stories back then, they argued a lot, just a few encounters with Legolas had been enough for Tarisilya to sense how much he loved Thranduil.

"As far as I know …" The cutting edge in Elrond’s voice silenced the other elves immediately. The Lord was known for his friendliness, his generosity and hospitality, but angering him was never a good idea. "… His Majesty was suspended by his hair to a beech, and then speared by a spider leg about as thick as its limbs. _Slowly_. Besides, his skin was torn open by poisoned claws about as long as these glasses. And he’s only rushed into this death trap, because his son was caught in the beast’s net, paralyzed by spider poison, and all of their soldiers were busy fighting orcs. If anyone here thinks this amusing, maybe he or she should rather be drinking less."

The answer was nothing but embarrassed silence; a few elves cleared their throats, abashed.

Celebrían solved the situation with a captivating smile. "Enough of the old stories. Who’s hungry?"

During the opulent meal, conversation was sparse, and Tarisilya could relax a little. Most of the questions afterwards were aimed at Tegiend too, so she could stay in the background, silently. While her brother couldn’t get enough of answering in detail, to Glorfindel especially, she made use of the time to watch a certain elf who had hardly spoken so far.

Erestor seemed absent, his thoughts straying far from any concerns of safety. His wine glass was as good as untouched, as was his plate. When their eyes met, he nodded at her, but seeing as he didn’t address her even once, he didn’t seem interested in a conversation.

Therefore, she didn’t start one herself; instead, she toyed with her glass and hoped that the tedious event would be over soon. It was the same everywhere after all, no matter if in Lórien or here. Such celebrations mostly helped some elves their mark in useless debates about things that couldn’t be changed anyway.

Occasionally, they also served some to look for a wife or husband. At least in Imladris, Tarisilya had been spared that so far.

When the first guests took their leave, she breathed a sigh of relief, but Tegiend made no move to follow them. He was at his third glass and lost in a vivid conversation with his big hero, that still revolved around sword fighting techniques.

Lady Celebrían on the other hand, was not sitting next to Tarisilya any longer as she suddenly realized. It was unusual for one of the hosts to retire that early, and Lord Elrond looked accordingly unhappy.

Tarisilya spotted the petite elf on a balcony of the celebration hall. After taking an apologizing look around, she went outside as well, slower, more deliberate than her curiosity demanded. The evening had lasted long enough to be allowed a short absence. If she had to listen to Tegiend any longer, she would fall asleep where she sat.

"Milady?" Hesitatingly, she stepped closer, her hands folded in front of her belly. "Are you alright?"

"But a little sadness is weighing on my mind, child of the moon.” Now that they were alone, the other elf stopped trying to radiating a calmness that she just didn’t seem to have right now. "While the worries of my husband might be based on nothing but a few blurred pictures of a future that might never come to pass, it’s hard to deny that the upcoming darkness created these visions. My mother talks about you often. You two are close, aren’t you?"

"Lady Galadriel is always there for me," Tarisilya answered, evasively. She liked Lady Galadriel, she liked her a lot. But she went to her for advice in extreme emergencies, because the Lady of Lórien really had better things to do than giving a still quite adolescent elf a hand. And also, because in her presence, she felt just as penetrated and unmasked as with Tegiend, when he read her mind without permission.

"Then you know that she is being just as attached to this world as I am.” Celebrían traced the balcony railing with her small hands, sweeping away a few leaves that the wind had left there, and started plucking one of them into small pieces. "I love this valley but it wasn’t easy for me, leaving my home to live here. There are still days when I long for waking up on a talan in the morning. But the idea that I won’t be able to be there, is even worse."

"To … be there?" It confused Tarisilya that Celebrían chose her of all people, to talk about these things. Granted, of course, Tarisilya did love Lórien just as much. After half a day already, she yearned for the smell of soft bark in her bedroom, for the song of the woods before she was even quite awake yet. But still … Well, maybe that was enough of a reason.

"This shadow … They say, it will suffocate everything. That now, nothing will last forever, and that the elves don’t have a choice but to flee at some point. Even those who never wanted to leave this world, like my mother and me."

_As even the golden leaves one day will fall forever …_

Tarisilya gasped for air, terrified, when she understood what Celebrían was saying, and now understood as well, what those words could only mean that she had read in Erestor’s book. "But nothing can happen to Lórien! Lady Galadriel is always taking care of us!"

"My husband is right, these are not your worries." Celebrían shook her head, annoyed with herself now apparently. "Don’t listen to an elf who has been separated from home for too many years. What about you, child of the moon? What aggrieves you so much that it’s even coming between your brother and you?"

"Is that so obvious?" That was a subject though, that for once Tarisilya didn’t want to talk about, not with an outsider. The constant discussions with Tegiend were more than enough.

"Your tales about Mirkwood reminded me of something." She bit her lip, unsure if after that burdensome exchange, she was ready for one even more difficult. "The Lord has been meaning to tell me something about my mother for a while. Somehow, we never got around to that. Did you know her too?"

"Nestradyl, sure." Celebrían didn‘t seem to mind that Tarisilya had avoided an answer. "A respectable elf who had seen more than one Age and knew how to keep a low profile about everything, so it wouldn’t put even more strain on her soul than her fate already had. Living in Mirkwood can be heavy on the heart. Before her wedding, she often looked for shelter in Imladris before she someday met her father, when he happened to pass by the valley as well. But shouldn’t you be asking that him?"

"I don’t want to. It hurts him too much." Uneasily, Tarisilya picked at the transparent sleeves of her dress.

Celebrían stopped her hand at the wrist. "Don’t ruin it; it was too laborious to make for that. Your brother and you, you were never allowed to meet your mother. All the more, you long for knowing everything about her. Your father will understand that. It’s been a long time. He will have to try handling the pain. However, I will tell you what I know, though that isn’t much. My husband was the one who spent much time with her. Your mother was an elf of secrets, a child of the night. The big decisions were made without her. If you didn’t know her closely, you wouldn't recognize her when you saw her on the streets. I’m quite certain that the King of Mirkwood himself didn’t even know, she existed. Which is probably the only reason why there wasn't any drama when your father persuaded her to move to Lórien. She always lived far from the big settlements. Just like with yours, only the stars could reveal her purity, because like you, Nestradyl was a child of innocence. She was actually older than my husband and your father when Vandrin met her, and still some people accused him of robbing the cradle."

"I don’t understand." Tarisilya felt highly distressed by the words that she had waited to hear for so long. She would have to think about them for a while. It had been a good choice after all, to take this slow.

"In your heart, you do. It’s your fate, child of the moon." Celebrían softly squeezed her shoulder and left her alone then, so she could compose herself.

"What does it mean?" Erestor was standing at the door suddenly. He only waited for Celebrían to be out of hearing range before he came closer. "Your title, I mean. Three-fourths of the elves in there have no idea, they just nod weightily every time, the Lord addresses you like that. So I don’t need to be ashamed of my little knowledge deficit."

Tarisilya had to grin. This elf really didn’t mince matters at all. Actually, she rather wanted to be alone right now, but the interest he had in her, flattered her. Until now, the guests had mostly focused on Tegiend.

"Not much is known about it. Most is passed on by word of mouth. My mother died when she gave birth to us and couldn’t tell me anything. But she left me a book in which she wrote down much about our fate. That’s actually pretty uncommon for people like us. Some secrets are not meant to be revealed in writing. I think … she knew. She saw it coming." Tarisilya took a deep breath and let the grief roll off her, with respect and wistfulness.

Immediately, the memory flared up how she had told Legolas exactly the same. Back then, it had been much more difficult, not to cry. By now, she had the necessary distance. In a way, that hurt the most, that someday you got used to it.

"You do know my preference for books already. May I see it perhaps?” Erestor must have heard the tremble in her voice, but he didn’t mention it, maybe to avoid hurting her.

"No, I …" Tarisilya hesitated. She had ever only let one person other than Tegiend and her father read this book. And to Legolas, she had given it freely, he hadn't even asked. Irrespective of the fact that the things in there weren’t for everyone, it would seem wrong, doing that again, especially with someone, she barely knew. "Maybe someday. This is very personal. But if you really want to know, I can tell you a little bit about it," she quickly added when she saw Erestor’s disappointed face. "How about tomorrow? I don’t want to keep you from the celebration."

"Would we be out here if we actually wanted to take part?" Erestor had a strange kind of laughter, raspy, without much emotion in it. It matched his posture, very straight, with his hands folded behind his back, which brought out his height quite well, and his head held high, revealing, he was very aware of his status around here. "No one in there will even notice that we are gone. There’s reasons, I usually avoid events like that. Imladris inhabitants are known for philosophizing about all kind of problems, of which most don’t even concern the elves. Unfortunately, mostly without anything coming of it."

"That sounds quite bitter, especially coming from Lord Elrond’s chief advisor." Tarisilya quickly bit her tongue. Where had that little disrespectfulness come from now? Half a day here, and she already forgot all her manners.

Erestor fortunately didn’t seem to take it the wrong way. "Correct, that’s what's sad about it. So, what is it that makes a child of the night?"

"You don’t give up, do you?" She liked his tenacity.

"That’s not in my nature. By the way, I firmly have to disagree with Lady Celebrían, even if that should be insolent."

"Somehow, I have a feeling, you do seldom worry about insolence." Tarisilya cocked an eyebrow, amused.

"If you don’t go to war, you have to learn other ways to assert yourself." Again this hint of cynicism when he talked about leading a less exciting life than others. A worse life. Erestor’s repellent expression didn’t exactly encourage to try and convince him otherwise.

"I think, the lady is wrong. I don’t think you can really be a child of the moon."

That sounded so serious, snide even, that Tarisilya immediately brought up her defenses. "Why are you saying that?" She certainly hadn’t asked for this fate, and it was often enough that she couldn’t handle it. Especially because of that, it hurt when somebody was judging something he didn’t even understand.

Erestor’s lips quirked suspiciosly. "Didn’t she say that only the night can bring out the true beauty of elves like you? Me, I already saw it when I watched you arrive in the afternoon. Good night, Tarisilya."

She felt that he was fleeing, touched uncomfortably by his own last sentences, that left her Tarisilya's stomach in a knot as well. If it was because of joy, pride or fear, she couldn’t tell.

"My friends call me Ilya," she called out to him, and quickly curtsied when he looked back over his shoulder. "What title do I use when addressing Lord Elrond‘s chief advisor?"

"People like me don’t have a title. And _my_ friends don’t bow to me. I will see you tomorrow, Ilya." He was all but running from the balcony before Tarisilya had a chance to ask why he assumed so naturally, that she would be back in the library tomorrow.

Of course, he would be right.

*** ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ***

From the Book of the Watcher, T.A. 2417

_May the honored Lord of our Age forgive these thoughts, for they originate from a mind in disorder._

_Wasn’t it the moon that once lit the way of the elves, before the sun has even wandered the skies? Maybe such old values, in a millennium of falling do matter again. How much purer the moon feels on days like these, free of a future that afflicted even the Evenstar of the Lord of all persons with fate, at her young age already._

_May the elves in the stiff disguise of stainlessness find the hope they need, while they still can. The silent Watcher though, whom the night swallows like the quiet paws of a long forgotten big cat … There is no star in the sky for beings like him. What if instead, the moon brings back memories of a long lost life? It’s not the Watcher’s place to step forward. He will wait like he always did. He has never changed the world. His voice is too weak for that._

_And yet, this one time, before the time of the elves in these realms will end, a light might brighten the place in the dark reserved for him, instead of him drowning in it._

_And if in the end, it is just another story on a dusty spine, written down hundreds of times and immediately forgotten, maybe then he will see that nothing in this realm, or in the one across the sea, has ever asked for a restless wanderer._

*** ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ***


	11. Chapter 11

There were elves, you just did _not_ want in your library.

Starting with Lord Elrond who liked to derange things on principle that you had sorted just an hour ago. Definitely not ending with his sons, who at least once every hundred years got in their head to know a better classification system, and who set forth unsuccessfully two weeks later each time.

Then there was Elrond‘s beloved baby girl, who not too long ago had thought, nothing on this world was funnier than balancing on shelves. For that, she had of course needed to empty at least twenty of them first, and built towers with the contents to climb.

Back then, Erestor had become convinced that kids were a punishment from the Valar. Although Arwen was a little more mature by now, he had never taken back that order for her to stay away from the library, and she was wise enough to let her father bring her books. Safety first.

But the kind of guests making him _livid_ were some soldiers who only came here for one of three reasons, one of them more primitive than the other. They wanted to study the backs of a few books to impress another elf with their alleged knowledge, they used the pretense of education to escape annoying duties, or they were looking for trouble with Lord Elrond’s chief advisor, to reduce frustration when their career was stagnating.

Since none of this applied to the most famous warrior of Imladris, Erestor couldn’t help but wonder what business Glorfindel had being in his office. And at a time, when Erestor only just started to work himself. For family counseling, Glorfindel seldom was drunk enough at this hour. And for sex, they _both_ weren't drunk enough. In fact, it had been some centuries since they'd last been in a mood like that, a mood that seldom befell any of the other elves, to surrender to physical pleasures in order to get their minds to shut up, even if it was only for a few hours. Things weren’t that easy anymore.

After the much too loud and too lengthy reception yesterday, Erestor had allowed himself the leisure of sleeping in his chambers, to rest a little longer than usual. If that resulted in being faced with grave looks before breakfast, that certainly had been the last time.

Without paying further attention to Glorfindel, Erestor fanned the flames for his morning tea. He hated to be bothered before he’d had his first cup. He wasn’t awake before, and consequently, not certifiably sane. These were unfair, insidious tactics. From now on, he better locked the damn door when he left.

"I was surprised you came for dinner.” Glorfindel sat down on the edge of the desk, biding, as if one sentence was enough to clarify what this was about.

"You’re sitting on a declaration of war from the last millennium."

Frowning, Glorfindel looked at the table and quickly got up when Erestor fished for a pile of parchments under his backside, with two fingertips only. "How about a second chair?"

"To have even more people keep me from work with trifles? I don’t think so. What do you want? If it is bothering everyone so much that I enlightened your gathering with my sunny presence, I’ll go back to avoiding that.”

"Let us have a civil conversation for once.” As usual in talks like that, at least in the last few millennia, Glorfindel started to sound cranky. Admittedly, their ability to manage conflict suffered exponentially since winds were getting rough in these realms. The basic training of generals apparently didn’t include the lesson that in times like these, wearing each other down needed be avoided.

"Why the sudden interest in diplomatic visits?"

"I’m busy." Erestor pointed at a stack of books. "So if that would be all …"

"You reach for too high a star." Glorfindel stopped Erestor from heading for the nearest shelf by suddenly standing right in front of him, with a wide stance. "Do not run. I just want to help."

"Help?" Erestor asked, slowly, as if he had to consider the meaning of the word. "And here I was thinking, you were just telling me, I’m not good enough for the things I want. You’ve made yourself clear about that plenty, you can save your breath. Move."

Enforcedly, Glorfindel obeyed. "Only you think, you are not good enough. Thus, you deny everything its perfection. That keeps our people from a false sense of security but this time, you chose the wrong object. This elf is not responsible for your messed up life."

"Get out." Erestor‘s voice turned into a hardly audible hiss, a last warning, as Glorfindel should know. Straighter patterned beings expressed boiling emotions with deafening volume, as if that was a convincing argument. For Erestor, it was a complete standstill of his body, the moment, when all energy left even his vocal chords, collecting somewhere else to wait for an outlet, when others should best avoid him.

Fortunately, instead of provoking the outbreak, Glorfindel left without a word. In spite of all their fighting in the past, he obviously still valued their friendship.

It was just in time, before one of them could have done something stupid. That wouldn't have led to anything but injuries anyway. Erector had no interest in spending the summer in the halls of healing, just because someone insisted on interfering with his business.

Taking a deep breath, he sank into his chair and poured himself some tea, with his hands still shaking, and chugged down the first half before the cup was even full. Better. He leaned his head against the back rest when pleasant heaviness arose in his body, and shut out every thought, trying to leave the annoying episode behind.

Before he quite could, the huge swinging door of the library was opened again. Quiet, seeking steps neared the first shelves.

Erestor smiled.

*** ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ***

From the Book of the Watcher, T.A. 2417

_There were always both of them, the Watcher and the Difference. There are good reasons why they should not be close, why they should never meet in the first place. It is natural, like the turning of day and night. At some point, one of them will always cross the line and try to play the part of the other. And like always, when someone tries to fight their own fate, only emptiness of the mind remains._

_He has always been different, the one created for the Difference. He has made a choice, unlike the Watcher. Blinded by the light of hope, it is now his calling to try and drag the Watcher into the same circle of illusion. As if there was a choice for someone who has never been offered one._

_There can be nothing but contrast between them, and still it seems, their encounter eons ago was not in vain. Because this once, the Difference did indeed affect the Watcher. The warrior forced the one who has waited to make a decision, without plan or destination, sure, as often happens in his long life, but every bit as final._

_The Watcher leaves the shadow._

_Maybe I’ve been leading a life like this for too long. Persisted for too long, that there is nothing but memory for someone like me. Was it an escape from even more pain? The cat that once crossed the way of the restless wanderer … The oldest writings say, she was not only a runner but a hunter as well._

_Chance will no longer decide._

*** ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ***

The first impression that the library arrangement was easy to see through, turned out wrong more and more. After a few minutes, Tarisilya was already as clueless as yesterday. Her head was swimming with names and titles, and she still had no idea where to look. Eventually, she just approached the most promising sounding shelf and traced the spines of the bottom row with her fingertips.

No luck. She wasn’t interested in flowery tales about the third battle for the second oversized squirrel gate of North Ithilien from the left. Interminable essays about who had rained on whose parade too often and provoked this fight in the first place, and how many innocent animals had died along the way, weren’t high on her list of favorite subjects either.

Sighing, she straightened up, groaning quietly when her leg muscles protested, overused by the long squat. She startled when she thought to see a movement behind the books, but it was only her own reflection in the glass panel separating the two halves of the shelf.

Maybe two rows higher, she would be luckier. What in the name of the Valar were strategies on the principle of chance supposed to be? She definitely could cross that shelf off the list, if all of the works in it dealt with such sensible subjects.

Again, her reflection moved when she turned away – but not as fast as it should. When would her elven senses finally be developed enough, to notice someone sneaking up on her? "Aren’t you a little old for hide and seek?"

"Not easy, surprising you, is it?" Erestor came out from behind the shelf and offered Tarisilya a black cup, very heavy and precious, with countless glistening crystals on it. "Tea?"

Though Tarisilya didn’t feel like she could keep anything down right now, her embarrassment made her accept, though the bitter smell of the drink wasn’t to her liking at all. It tasted just the same. She tried hard not to grimace. "Interesting mixture."

"You’re in good company." Erestor was nice enough to quickly take the cup back. "Nearly everyone thinks it nasty. But it has a soothing effect, without limiting the mind’s creativity."

"I know what that is. I’m a healer, remember? I just didn’t think, it would taste so detestable.” Tarisilya shuddered a little. "Do you dislike your work so much that you're needing nerve poison?"

"Not everyone is as pleasant a customer as you."

Erestor quickly looked the shelf over that Tarisilya had just given up on. "Have you made it through Lord Elrond’s books already? It’s not like they are particularly challenging to read, but that would be a new record anyway."

"No," Tarisilya admitted, after a quick glance at the room, to make sure the Lord wasn’t anywhere around to hear how Erestor was talking about him. "I want to take a look at all of his writings at some point, but Tegiend’s endless gibbering yesterday gave me another idea."

"An idea so tempting that you’re neglecting the works recommended to you? That doesn’t sound very disciplined." This time, she saw the corners of his mouths twitching.

"Do _you_ always have discipline? An elf with not one but two professions so responsible, do you even still have time for yourself? I have been taught that you can never achieve top efficiency if you don’t give your body and mind enough rest." Tarisilya proudly repeated one of the first lessons, her father had driven into her as a child. Usually when in one of their learning hours, Tegiend had understood something faster than her, and in her disappointment, she had tried to catch up immediately.

"I will think about it."

Erestor pointed at the shelf again. "What can I help you with? You shouldn’t spend all summer, trying to find your way around here."

Tarisilya hesitated. There was a reason, she had wanted to take a look on her own. On the other hand, Erestor wasn’t exactly a conventional elf. Maybe he would understand. "I’ve long been meaning to learn a few things about archery."

"Are there no books about that in Lórien?" Amused, Erestor brought her to the back part of the library. "Construction, techniques or guidance?"

"Maybe some of each?"

Tarisilya restlessly shifted from one foot to anther. When she realized, she quickly called herself to order. It wasn’t suitable, fidgeting like an elfling. Either Erestor would help, or she would keep on looking on her own. "I’m not supposed to read stuff like that. Ada said, it would fill my mind with needless burdens. That these works are better suited for warriors."

"And what do you think about that?"

The attention did Tarisilya good. Her father meant well when he tried to channel her focus completely into her healing abilities. After all, for her as well, they were one the most important things in her life. But some things, she’d rather have talked about at length instead of just giving in.

But when? Vandrin was so busy with his duties sometimes, that he left her in Tegiend’s hands completely.

And her brother had enough worries of his own. The slowly heaping conflicts with dark creatures roving about on the edge of Lórien kept him and that whole group around Haldir on their toes.

"No one ever asked me that." Tarisilya pursed her lips. "It’s rather the elves going into battle, isn’t it? She-elves have to wait for them at home, at least the healers among us."

"Unless there‘s times of dire need and they must defend our kind as well. Not counting the few exceptions that fate has chosen for a permanent life at the front," Erestor added, so automatically, that Tarisilya was sure, he’d decide against supporting her now. "A lesson slightly outdated, is what I call it, but no one cares about what I think when it comes to tradition. The Lord needs me mostly as an analyst and strategist, to answer a possible growing threat. When it comes to history, I’m just the librarian here, what do I know?"

"I do care." Tarisilya stopped abruptly, leaning against a shelf so he couldn’t just pass her by. "So don’t treat me like I‘m not taking you seriously."

"As you wish." Sighing, Erestor crossed his arms. "I’ve witnessed more such _times of dire need_ than I care to count. Every time, I was overwhelmed by the resilience that she-elves can muster up when the situation calls for it. It just never quite revealed itself to me how one is supposed to defend themselves if they never learn how. Lord Elrond is worried about his wife, because nearly every day, the seeing eye of Lórien feeds him more terrible news. But so far, it hasn’t occurred to him to show Lady Celebrían how she can help herself. That aspect of tradition has been lost in thousands of years of peace. But I didn’t retire to this hall to revolutionize the world of elves."

"Well, that’s a loss for us she-elves." Tarisilya turned away, disappointed. Had she really thought, things here would be different than at home?

For long seconds, there was only silence. Erestor seemed just as unhappy with the outcome of that talk as her.

"I have a second bow in my chambers. It’s only been lying around for decades. I’ve hoped for some time now, that someone would show up who wants to use it."

"You have what?" Was he just offering …?

For once, it wasn’t a good memory of the time with Legolas, coming to Tarisilya's mind. Legolas, whom Tarisilya had once hoped to support her in her conflict. Instead, he had taken the exact same line as her father and brother.

And here was someone, suddenly offering help. Maybe Tegiend was right. Maybe Tarisilya had neglected not only her family but also her friends, and making new acquaintances, for too long. That Legolas and her had promised to wait for each other, didn’t mean, she had to live her life as if she was dead already.

"Is that so hard to believe?" Erestor took her question the wrong way. "I wasn’t born a librarian. I didn’t have any training for a while, but the basics, I’ll surely be able to teach you."

"My brother would have objections," Tarisilya answered in a century-old habit, though her heart immediately cut a caper.

Was she seeing things, or did Erestor really sound disappointed? "You let others decide on your life? At your age?"

"As long as I can’t lead it alone." In this respect, she agreed with her father without reservation. She still had much to learn.

Of course, in theory, she could long do whatever she wanted. In truth though, that would still mean affronting her closest family members and risking bad fights. That was not how she wanted to solve conflicts anymore. Not to mention, she felt not even remotely mature enough yet, to know the right way in all spheres of life.

"I love my family more than anything. I don’t want to hurt Tegiend."

"Your brother won’t leave the soldiers facilities anytime soon anyway. I’m not telling. It’s time for you to at least start choosing your own path, don’t you think?" Erestor placed his hand firmly on her shoulder, as if he had the right to.

Trembling, she broke away but turned back to him then. When had someone last told her something like that? Sure, it was comfortable, being guided constantly, but how did people expect her to grow like that? Maybe ever since that big argument with her father about Legolas, she’d tried too hard to fulfill all of his expectations. At some point, that had to end.

"When can we start? Right now?"

"I have to work." Erestor looked like she was suggesting, he should wear a dress for dinner.

"What was that about too much discipline?" Tarisilya kept her head high, to emphasize that he had to get past her if he wanted to return to his office. "Are you not allowed any time off, librarian?"

Perplexed, he put his hands on his hips, obviously not used to people treating him with just as little respect as he showed it. Tarisilya started to like that smile more and more. It made that facade of an elf who preferred darkness to the light, falter well and truly. "It's impossible, denying you anything. I'll meet you …"

Interrupting himself, he looked at the door where quickly approaching steps could be heard. "Looks like we need a rain check after all. It's the Lord. There's no getting away from him once he decided to need something at once."

"Want to bet on it?" Tarisilya's grin was only growing. "You are talking to someone who regularly flees from having dinner with Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel."

"I can only imagine. Sadly, this library isn't built on a tree. You can't just jump out of a window."

"Who said anything about jumping?" When the steps came closer, Tarisilya just grabbed the wide sleeve of Erestor's robe and pulled him along to a shelf by his office, where she had seen a small hollow between wood and wall earlier.

"After you." She had no idea where this childish idea was coming from, or why she was actually pursuing it. It had been long since last she'd felt so jaunty.

"You are out of your mind." Bewildered, Erestor looked back and forth at her and the shelf.

"If you rather discuss trade relations with Lord Elrond …" She regarded him with her saddest look from below, eyes wide open – Tegiend could never resist that one.

Suddenly, he started to laugh. "Only to hear what you’re going to tell him when he finds us."

He took her hand to pull her into the alcove, but let go immediately when she flinched. "I might not look it, Ilya, but usually, I don't bite."

Tarisilya wanted to explain, defend herself … But there was no time; the steps were right outside the door now. Besides, she suddenly had enough of that whole etiquette nonsense herself.

The alcove was so small that staying on distance was impossible anyway. After trying out a few positions, as quickly and quietly as possible, Erestor ended up standing right behind her, and Tarisilya suddenly had trouble breathing. Not because the air was that bad, but from not being used to the close proximity of another body, though it wasn't anything more than a chest pressing into her back through her clothes. Still, it was foreign, completely different from all she knew. The breathing down her neck, and the gentle scent of another elf surrounding her, of wax mostly …

Erestor placed one hand on her arm, silently, so they wouldn't reveal themselves.

When she looked back at him, her heart racing, the warmth and understanding in his expression made the short fear ebb away immediately. Heavens, this was just a bit of fun. Life was serious enough.

She brought herself to smile and nodded in the direction where they could hear Lord Elrond walking down the aisles, calling for his chief advisor, obviously astounded that Erestor wasn't around.

Erestor seemed to start enjoying the game as well. He put a finger on his lips and listened closely to the silence between the shouts, to detect if the Lord was coming any closer.

He didn't, instead Elrond seemed to be looking for something now, and he took his sweet time.

A few minutes later, Tarisilya's body already started to ache from the tense position and the narrowness. But her own stupidity hurt more. How in the world had she come up with that nonsense? She had only been trying to find a book, and now she was trapped against a hard, cold wall. It was dusty, stuffy and above all, degrading. Her sanity must have left her. It was about time to act normal again.

Before she could leave though, she realized that it wouldn't be only embarrassing if Lord Elrond saw them come out from behind that shelf. He would surely think something entirely different than the two of them trying to hide from him. And of course he would tell the whole thing to Tarisilya's brother instantly. Maybe he would even write to her father.

In other words: There was no way out.

More furious by the second, she looked back over her shoulder. Why had Erestor not stopped her? He was a few thousand years older than her, he should never have let her persuade him!

A very serious expression met hers. Erestor didn't seem to deem the situation half as bad. At least he stared at her calmly, completely unabashed. He didn't look away when Tarisilya's eyes met his, but kept on studying her face.

Strangely enough, it didn't make Tarisilya feel unwell. It was more like another game. Fine, then she would just study him as well.

Erestor's face wasn't even as pinched as it had seemed to her yesterday. The symmetric beauty that distinguished elves like Glorfindel or Legolas from others, in his case was replaced by experience and especially expression. Every painter would have a blast taking his portrait. With his hair only at shoulder-length, attention was immediately drawn to sharp features and a range of expressions that Tarisilya couldn't quite decrypt yet.

Especially right now, forbidden to talk, she really wished she could though.

The situation allowed her feel better than she had even wanted to know, that apparently, Erestor's wide robes mostly served to conceal a very slim torso. But his motionless hand on her arm looked like it could grasp firmly if it needed to. And the legs behind hers were as long as muscular. Maybe he used to run through his library instead of walking, to stay in shape …

At least he didn't try to take advantage of the situation and touch her in an inappropriate way. Very polite.

And little flattering.

What? Tarisilya quickly shook off that last thought. She knew nothing about this elf, nothing at all. Maybe he had a wife and three elflings hidden somewhere between two of these shelves. Besides, she was being espoused to someone for more than three hundred years herself. And now she was offended because he wouldn't touch her? That blow to her head yesterday had obviously done quite a number on her.

Before she had finished the thought, Erestor’s hand suddenly neared her face.

Since jerky movements would be a bad idea right now, Tarisilya couldn't yield and tried it with a scathing look instead. Which she couldn't keep up for long though, when she saw his steadily gentle expression.

Erestor didn't mean her harm. That compliment yesterday, he had surely not meant in a weird way either. Obviously, he had just expected something different from this trip behind a shelf.

Tarisilya needed to make him understand that she didn't come to this library because she thought the manager irresistible. Considering how courteous he was treating her, she would do that carefully instead of abrasive and unfriendly, as with some other elves in the past, hoping that he would be able to handle it.

Spotting the dismissive expression in her eyes, Erestor quickly shook his head and finally finished that movement to caress her cheek, only to show her his hand then, the thin black traces of dirt on it.

Tarisilya had to bite back chuckle, relief flooded her soul. Assuming that someone had a hidden agenda who was only being nice to her, bordered on arrogance; that needed to stop right away. She shrugged, apologizing.

"The Lord left five minutes ago, by the way."

"What?" Outraged over Erestor fooling her, she startled. Overestimating her distance to the shelf, she hit her head for the second time within two days. " _Ow_! That's not funny!" Miffed, she beat her hand against his chest and left the alcove, knocking dust from her dress, ranting about librarians with a very weird sense of humor.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't resist. Besides, it was only fair, since it was you who brought me into this unmentionable situation in the first place." Erestor handed her a clean cloth from his desk drawer, so she could wipe off the last of dirt. An offer of peace, probably.

"Shall we meet by the stables? There's many undisturbed places outside the valley, where no one will be watching us."

Undisturbed places? Oh, yes. Archery. Right. What else?

"Not now." Tarisilya did her best to sound huffy. "I need to recover from certain adventures in these halls. If someone sees me walking to my room like that, they'll wonder if I come here to clean up instead of reading."

"Tempting. Lord Elrond keeps on forgetting that a room does not only need to be tidied, but cleaned as well," Erestor replied, dead serious. "He's promised me a helper for a while now. Thinking about it …"

Tarisilya unerringly threw the cloth at his face. "Idiot." She quickly headed for the door, not ready to listen to any more effrontery.

"Didn't you forget something?"

This charming tone of his made it absolutely impossible not to turn around, though she had just sworn to never look at that elf again for the rest of the summer. "What?"

With one grip, Erestor got a blue bound book from a shelf and held it out to her. "Basics. Stance, structure of a bow, material. Before I can take you along for practice, you should at least know what you're holding in your hand."

Tarisilya felt drained by the constant fluctuations in Erestor's behavior and just took the book, in spite of feeling like slapping him with it. Just when she thought to have figured out this elf, she was already feeling again, the way she had felt when they had first met.

"I doubt I will learn that so quickly, will I?" she asked, sure that his last sentence had not necessarily referred to a weapon.

"That's up to you." His hand was on hers for a moment too long, then he let her go.

Standing at the door already, Tarisilya looked back once more. Through the shelves, it was hard to tell, but she was quite sure, Erestor was standing by the pedestal of his book.


	12. Chapter 12

_She had come to say good-bye – did he sense that? For hours, she had been waiting at their pre-arranged spot, far from the cave palace, far from the guards and the borders of Lórien, where no one could watch them. And not a trace of him._

_Not that she was surprised. He could usually tell when she was angry, and then he always ran._

_Today, he wouldn’t get rid of her that easily. Determined, Tarisilya jumped down from the beech limb and marched right into the woods, without sparing a thought for soldiers, spiders or other obstacles. At this point, no one better dared stopping her._

_A tiny white cat got in her way, wailing piteously. When Tarisilya came closer, it jumped away, turned back to her and meowed again._

_"Do you want to show me something?" Tarisilya didn’t know her own voice. Thinking about it, she sounded a lot like Tegiend right now. Very fitting, after all, she had finally realized something that he had known all along._

_Since the cat continued to whine and the noise was getting on her nerves, she followed the animal, though going astray was exactly what she had wanted to avoid. Suddenly she felt fear creeping up on her. Why hadn’t she just kept on waiting?_

_Already tempted to go back, she started moving again, automatically, when between the black withered twigs of another beech in the distance, she could spot something bright that didn’t belong there, not in this enchanted forest, in the middle of winter …_

_Tarisilya screamed._

_It was the naked, blood-covered body of an elf. Two limbs stabbed through his shoulders kept him suspended many feet off the ground. All life had long left the wide open eyes that stared right at Tarisilya accusingly, when she ran to the tree, choking on her panic. It was Legolas._

_The corpse blinked. It turned its head to her. "Why were you not here?" the corpse asked that maybe wasn’t half as dead as it looked after all. How could someone still be alive with injuries like that?_

_"Me?" Tarisilya stopped abruptly, the returning anger even bigger than the worry about him. How dared he blame her for this? "You left me! You didn’t want me to stay here!"_

_The sound of long legs crawling over sticky, clammy forest soil had her spinning around. The slobbering mouth of a huge spider burst through the brush-wood and came right at her._

_Again she screamed, louder, shrill, it hurt in her own ears. In vain, she tried to withdraw; her body didn’t obey her._

_The spider took a sharp turn before it could even close to Tarisilya and headed for the tree where there was an even more helpless victim waiting for her._

_Before Tarisilya knew what she was doing, she started to run again. But not towards the tree. She ran away._

_She left him alone. Just like she had planned to …_

"Ilya, wake up!"

A strong hand shook her shoulder so brutally that Tarisilya woke with a start, a loud scream on her lips. Only after a several long seconds, she recognized Tegiend. "What … what is it?"

"You were dreaming. And crying." He softly caressed her cheeks. "What did you see that was so bad?"

For a moment, she was about to answer, to get rid of these pictures in her head alone. Just in time, she remembered who the worst dream had been about that she had ever had, and what Tegiend would make of that. It was painful enough, having to ask herself what in the world put thoughts like that in her head.

"I’m alright now.” She sat up groggily and wiped the sleep out of her eyes. "How late it is?"

"You fell asleep on top of your readings. I didn’t want to wake you too early.” Tegiend pointed at the opened book on the bedside table that Erestor had given Tarisilya yesterday. Judging by his amiable expression, he had not taken a closer look, or he would have reacted a whole lot differently. As much as he interfered with her life sometimes, he usually respected her privacy.

"I thought, you might want to get up now. The daughter of the Lord will be back earlier than planned. Her escort has already been spotted in the distance."

"Why didn’t you say so?" Tarisilya jumped up immediately and started rummaging in the cabinet. These were the occasions when she complimented herself on having such a generous father after all. At least she didn’t need to feel ashamed anymore when she compared herself to Arwen in all those pretty dresses.

"Somebody asked for you at the gates of the guesthouses by the way.” It was impossible for Tegiend to hide his curiosity, or that it only grew when Tarisilya blushed. "Shall I bring him here if he returns?"

"No, don’t. I hardly know him." Her head crimson, Tarisilya bolted for the washing room.

 _That_ was what she had needed on an already horrible morning, obviously. Did that audacious recluse really think, she had nothing better to do all summer than keeping him from his work?

Good thing that Arwen was being here now. It wasn’t only a perfect excuse for Tarisilya to stop going to the library. She might also finally learn something about Erestor from someone who wouldn’t ask stupid counter questions.

Tarisilya made it to the city gate in time to see the riders arrive. Excited, she headed for Arwen's pretty chestnut mare, but was stopped short by a soldier of her guard.

"Lady Arwen is exhausted from traveling. Register in the palace if you want to see her."

Trying not to answer anything rude, Tarisilya nearly bit her tongue off. She stepped back, disappointed.

Fortunately, Arwen‘s usually so gentle voice called the soldier back furiously. "Camhanar! Do not hinder our treasured visitor of Lórien!"

"Forgive me, milady." The elf quickly lowered his head, mortified by the public rebuke.

Tarisilya didn’t think of herself as a ‘treasured visitor’, but it was still a relief, not having to file a written request first, to see her friend. Delighted, she approached the horse. "I’m happy, you’re so early.”

"It was so dreary in the mountains. When the herald reported that you arrived, I couldn’t stand the place for another hour. Come on, let’s walk.” Only when Arwen lifted the hem of her dress to dismount, Tarisilya realized that she wasn’t wearing an unusually large skirt. It had only looked like it, because she had ridden with both legs on one side.

Tarisilya had never seen such a saddle, with a horn on one side and only one stirrup. Just as special as elegant, as all things concerning Arwen were. This wasn’t a riding style meant for long distances, it more seemed like a game, to stand out even more on special occasions like marching home. Long-lived entities like elves were always looking for new challenges for body and mind.

"It’s harder than it looks.” Arwen noticed her curiosity and lovingly patted her mare’s neck. "She was very patient with me until I stopped plummeting on her back. You want me to show you how to do it?"

"That would be great." Tarisilya's face beamed, all entanglements and hassle of the last days gone for the moment, including the disturbing dream. "I have something for you, by the way."

"Come to the palace tonight," Arwen answered, in the same conspiratorial tone. Her mischievous grin betrayed that usual elevated, distanced aura. A letter from Lórien that her father didn’t know anything about and for once wouldn’t ask curiously what Lady Galadriel had to say to her, that was always a happening.

"Have you met my mother?” It didn’t sound like the longing question one would expect when a daughter hadn’t been home in months. More like Arwen hoping for Celebrían to be gone from the valley for some reason.

Maybe Tarisilya could learn from her the reason for everyone's long face around here, for a mood, as if a horde of orcs could invade the city any minute. "At dinner, why? What in the world is going on here?"

"Not here," Arwen parried, with a warning side-glance at the soldiers.

"Why don't you tell me whom you've been meeting instead? It must be someone special since you can’t keep still for more than half a minute."

"No one," Tarisilya protested. _Why_ did people keep on telling her that she acted differently?

"No one? You haven't met a single elf since I last saw you? Have you been living in exile?" Arwen asked, feigning shock.

"What? No, stop the nonsense. I thought you mean …" Tarisilya stopped, rolling her eyes. Great, tripped over her tongue again. Arwen had her father's talent of cruelly cornering people.

"Just a friend." If you could even call it that.

"I'm warning you: By tonight, I will know his name." Arwen grinned at her for a last time before their ways parted at the fork where separate paths led to the guesthouses and the palace.

"What do you think, Ilya, was that a threat or a promise?" one of the elves who had watched the arrival and waved at Elrond's daughter, asked.

"Are you following me?" Scowling, Tarisilya turned to Erestor.

"Of course not. I'm only headed for the wrong direction instead of walking to the training area, because I like the sun so much."

Used to his weird sense of humor by now, Tarisilya knew how to take that. "Why don't you go by horse?"

"In the middle of the city? Absurd notion." Erestor drew his shoulders in, shuddering. "Why ride when Eru gave us two healthy legs?"

"You're not afraid of it, are you?" Tarisilya started to enjoy these verbal duels. It was refreshing when usually you had to think over every word and every gesture twice. "The big, bad, black-clad elf is afraid of the most gentle and peace loving animal of all?"

"You obviously never rode one of Lord Elrond's horses."

"Wrong!" Tarisilya triumphed. "When I was here for the first time, he gave one of them to me! Mawëra was …" But that was when her voice started to tremble, a grief long thought processed coming back. "I liked him very much."

Erestor seemed to sense that the memory of the stallion hurt her and quickly changed the subject, offering her his arm. "Come with me?"

"To your training?" Hesitatingly, unsure if this was proper, Tarisilya linked arms with him, but since the elves around them hardly seemed to notice, that probably didn't mean anything.

Only now, she noticed the tip of a bow that Erestor was wearing under his robe. "Do you need to practice to not embarrass yourself in front of me?"

"I knew it, you _do_ want to try." Touché. He was just too good.

"I didn't have a bow in my hand since the last battle for Imladris. I let other people rope me in for way too many duties. It's about time, I'm actually doing something for myself for a change."

"And it took an adolescent elf of a strange realm for you to realize that?"

She sounded less jestingly than planned, and Erestor stayed serious as well when he turned his gaze to her. "Maybe it did."

The soldiers at the shooting range looked just as disconcerted as Elrond at that reception when Erestor joined them. Staying at the waist-high fence surrounding the compound, Tarisilya could see many of the elves put their heads together, even from afar. Occasionally, there was an amused grin, too.

She understood better by the minute, why Erestor usually stayed in his library. He did look somewhat misplaced in his long grey and black robe which kept on getting stuck on too long twigs, the protruding hook of a material table or the marking posts in the ground where the archers were lining up. Erestor wasn't smaller than other elves, but in spite of his loose fitting clothes, his physique revealed that he preferred to be inside.

In view of the mostly practical golden armor of Imladris soldiers, it was an unintentionally funny sight. Even for a harmless training like this, the elven fighters were wearing their uniforms, including the stiff chest plate. It was an unsettling picture in times of peace, seeing so many warrior braids in one place.

The quiet laughter and the shallow jokes quickly stopped though, when Erestor raised his bow for the first time. Though Tarisilya didn't know much about these things, she was pretty certain that the pale, slender Noldo demonstrated a straighter, better tensed posture than the other archers on the range. The first arrow barely missed the middle of the target.

"Impressive – for the first marking," one of the soldiers at the edge of the area commented just a little too loudly, followed by a chuckle that definitely wasn't well-natured.

Clearly, Erestor had some appropriate counter-remark on his lips, but before he could even face the other elf, a towering silhouette came between the two of them.

Tarisilya only now realized that Glorfindel was lingering at the area as well. "Do not waste your time, mellon."

"You want something?" Erestor nocked his next arrow without even looking up. "I'm none of your soldiers, I don't need a supervisor."

You could all but watch how the ears of several other elves turned even sharper, how much they suddenly stressed, being busy with their weapons. When two of the most powerful characters in Imladris were about to get in a fight, you probably didn't want to come between them … but of course not miss a word either.

Glorfindel grabbed Erestor's wrist harshly, just for a moment. The Lord of the House of the Golden Flower obviously didn't like to be ignored in public. "You are out of practice. Like this, you are in the soldiers' way. I need every free shooting stand right now. You know the situation by the borders. Come back after the official units, then I will tutor you."

Erestor didn't bother countering the humiliating patronization with words. He just turned to his side with his bow still raised, so Glorfindel had to step back if he wasn't longing for an arrow in his chest.

The other elves' murmurs grew louder. Outside of training duels, no one raised a weapon in Imladris against another elf, that was an unwritten law.

Erestor, already having nocked the arrow and merely changing his position, once more dangerously scraped a barrier without really breaking it, proving that he didn't let anyone intimidate him. "If a simple worker breathing the same air as soldiers of noble blood bothers you, I suggest, you file an official complaint with Lord Elrond. He will then review it with his chief advisor and decide on it benevolently, I'm sure."

Dead silence. No one even dared to breathe. There were elves you just did not want to alienate. One who had been dead before and whose list of defeated enemies included a Balrog, was among those.

For a moment, Glorfindel lost every calm. His hand was on the hilt of his sword in a flash, neck muscles tensing up dangerously. "Careful, Erestor." He released his anger along with his held breath and turned away. "Careful."

Tarisilya wasn't the only one feeling relieved when Erestor turned back to his target. Only when he sought her gaze, with a small smile, she realized why maybe he was acting that edgy.

Shaking her head, she walked back to the guesthouses. She had always had little patience with stallion manners.

To Tarisilya’s surprise, Arwen was nowhere to be seen when in the evening, she entered the palace. It wasn't like her friend to wait for her in her chambers.

Before she could decide if going there on her own was impolite, Lord Elrond came down the stairs leading to the building's private chambers. Since he didn't seem to spot Tarisilya right away, she had a moment to observe him closely, for once, without any mask of etiquette or the unwavering strength that the Lord had to radiate for the residents of his realm.

It wasn't just the unusual practical clothes – tunic, boots, breeches – that had Tarisilya look twice to make sure, it really was him. Only now, she realized that she had never seen the Lord in anything but these long robes made of wickedly expensive fabric before. It looked close to untidy, sloppy even, when there was no circlet and no braid in his hair.

In spite of standing in a public reception hall, Tarisilya suddenly felt like she was invading his privacy. The Lord's gloomy expression only emphasized that feeling. It was better for her to leave.

"Looking for someone, child of the moon?"

Anxiously, she started toying with the sleeves of her dress. "You can call me ‚Ilya’, milord, everyone does."

Lady Galadriel and her husband, she had told the same, several times, to no avail, and she doubted that she would be any more successful here. But if the Lord didn't place value on etiquette when he was off duty, she didn't want to be addressed with her title either.

"I am not everyone," he replied tersely; listening closely, she could tell it sounded impatient again.

Yes, she was definitely intruding. "Your daughter has invited me. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to …"

"My wife wants to be alone with Arwen tonight." Elrond tried to show a sympathetic smile but didn't quite succeed. "Sometimes, even for a father it is better to back away for a while. Will you walk with me in the garden?"

Surprised, Tarisilya nodded. "If it is not taking too much of your time …"

"You should have taken some long ago. After all, it was me who broke a promise to you." When Elrond offered her his arm, this time, the smile seemed sincere.

And this time Tarisilya knew the ropes, and linked her arm with his immediately, though she still thought it a little strange, going on a walk with someone relatively intimately, especially with a person like the Lord.

When they entered the private section of the gardens, she quickly forgot about that though, too overwhelmed she was by the facilities.

Even at dusk, that sea of flowers, made of so many vibrant colors, was impressive. Many of the tree species lining the broad gravel paths, she had never seen before. Animals were free-roaming the grounds, curiously watching the visitors, without reserve. The tender smell of fresh blossoms and the last song of birds for the day accompanied them on their way to a bench behind the palace.

"My wife actually had to remind me, that you've been waiting for me to talk to you about something." Acting unusually informal still, the Lord crossed his legs, his arms stretched out on the marble back rest. "Do you know why your father and I don't talk much?"

"Not exactly." Tarisilya should just have used her tiredness as an excuse to retire. Quarrels among elves had never interested her. It hurt too much that it was because of exactly that kind of nonsense, that she wasn't allowed to see Legolas. "He says that you use a different kind of magic for healing."

"A little sugarcoated for my taste, but he's not wrong. When he met Nestradyl then …" Elrond sighed, guilt colored his voice. "It was your mother's decision, it took me a long time to accept that. What the Valar unite in love, can and should never be separated by anything or anyone. Nestradyl and your father in each other respectively found their master, to strengthen abilities that their heritage and in the case of your mother, the moon had gifted them with from the start. That had us drifting apart. And before I could reestablish contact …"

Pausing, he shortly squeezed Tarisilya's shoulder. "She was a wonderful elf. Reserved, warmhearted, very wise. She always stayed in the background and never wanted to be involved in pioneering matters, but when she said something, people listened to her."

"I wish, someone would listen to _me_ ," Tarisilya replied bitterly. "Everyone tells me that we will soon be facing difficult times. Other elves are at least allowed to prepare for that. Why do us healers and so many other female elves have to go blindly into the dark?"

"Nothing is more important for elves than their family and the bonds between them." Elrond didn't seem to mind the criticism, but he left no doubt that objections of a young elf would not change existing rules. "The biggest strength of most female elves is to secure this solidarity, while the warriors ride out to defend our world. Bad emergencies aside, they shouldn't have to be fighting. Especially not when they have committed as deeply to the art of healing as you. I don't think your father reckless enough to not have taught you that early on."

"In war, even healers have to raise their sword, he taught me that as well. And how are we supposed to do that, if it does become necessary, to protect our families, when no one shows us how?" Tarisilya asked again, stubbornly. She only realized, surprised, that she was repeating exactly what Erestor had mentioned yesterday, when Elrond sighed and turned his gaze to the sky. Probably because he'd heard that argument often enough from his chief advisor.

But he wasn't thinking about Erestor when he answered. "Now you sound _exactly_ like your mother. I am certain that no one will deny you learning a few basic moves of defense, not even your father or your brother, if you insist. That just shouldn't take priority for you. And first of all, you have to be very careful about possibly ending a life. There are more important things for you to do. Come with me, child of the moon. I want to ask you a favor."

"What's wrong with her?" Worry and empathy filling her soul, Tarisilya knelt down next to the heavily breathing mare that Elrond had brought her to see.

The animal was laying on the floor of one of the open stables, in a small den, separated from the other horses. It was running a high fever and seemed apathetic. Its legs were swollen and sore, the mare obviously had not stood up in days. She hardly reacted to the visitors, only bristling tiredly when Tarisilya placed one hand on her nostril.

"I can't tell for sure, unfortunately. The surrounding areas of Imladris haven't been fully safe for a while. Dark creatures bring trouble upon the mountains. The nature suffers from it too. She probably fed on something wrong on a ride."

Elrond as well caressed the mare's nose, and pressed a quick, sad kiss to it. "She gave birth to many strong foals. Now I'm afraid, she won't even last the summer. I did what I could."

"How am I supposed to help then?" Confused, Tarisilya raised her head to look at him. "You're a lot older and much more experienced than me, milord. If your healing powers do not suffice, then my meek ones will make even less of a difference."

"Meek is hardly the world I would use, child of the moon." Somehow, she didn't like that critical look in his eyes. "I've reached the limits of the ways of healing that I am trained in. Since this is one of my favorite animals, I am willing to let someone try who knows different methods."

Tarisilya was young, but she wasn't anybody's fool. She got up immediately and left the den. "You want to test me. You are afraid that I am like my father."

"No. I hope that you are more like your mother. That the influence, she had on Vandrin's powers was a good one, and that you can combine their gifts to something that creates miracles without causing danger. This is a good way for you to learn more about what her life was about." This wasn't the whole truth; Tarisilya could see it in the Lord's too stiff posture. But there was also an honest spark of care, and willingness to help in his eyes.

"I'll try first thing tomorrow. I can't promise anything." Tarisilya said good-bye as quickly as possible. Now, she really did want to be alone.

Which was why she wasn't overly pleased with someone waiting for her by the stairs of the guesthouses, whom she didn't have any patience left for today. "Want to suggest again that you're not following me?"

"I just wanted to bring you something." Erestor offered her another book, longer than the one from yesterday. "I completely forgot about this. It's of a much better quality. I could hardly have given it to your brother, could I?"

"Thanks." Still annoyed about the ridiculous scene at the training area, Tarisilya took the gift quickly and pushed past the other elf then.

"Why the hurry?" he asked, disappointed. "I've been meaning to take you for a walk through the gardens of the guesthouses. The moon is nearly full, isn't that appealing enough?"

Of course, just what she had been waiting for. Exploring the same gardens with Erestor of all people, where Legolas and her had come close for the first time. She had had enough of the past for one day.

"After Lord Elrond trying to dissect my powers, I've had my fill for tonight. I don't like feeling controlled."

"Then you have come to the wrong place. In Imladris, there's always someone watching." Erestor realized how agitated she was and for once didn't tease her, but very carefully put his hand on the one of hers, that pressed the book to her chest. "You have nothing to hide. Don't let anyone intimidate you."

She was too tired to tell him to stop touching her. Maybe she didn't, because it didn't feel unpleasant. It even was a bit calming, as if some of these millennia of experience of life that Erestor radiated, was passed on to her. "Good night."

"Will I see you tomorrow?"

Why was this elf so persistent? "I think I have enough reading material for now." Without turning back, Tarisilya ran up the stairs.

"Was that a no?"

And here, on the way to Imladris, she had been thinking that Tegiend could be nerve-racking. "Why don't you keep following me all day? Maybe you're lucky."

"Was that a yes?"

"Good night, Erestor."

*** ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ***

From the Book of the Watcher, T.A. 2417

_Is he really not able to see? May I be forgiven the insolence. The wisdom of the Lord shall be unquestioned. It is surely only the haze of Lórien, preventing his vision from going further than a Secondborn sees the horizon._

_If the unrest wasn't so heavy on my heart, my mind would find undeniable humor in this situation. Wasn't it the warrior, the Difference, just a few blinks ago, who saw the white blossom of Lórien wilting in my shadow? Now it's the Lord of all people, burdening this image of pure clarity with the presage of darkness._

_I will not stand by to watch that._

_May pain and labor pave the way, may borders be crossed._

_May the Watcher stay back in the dusty corners of these halls._

_It won't be the storm over Imladris, darkening the shine of the full moon._

_Yeteven as these words find their way into the everlasting work of the Watcher, the quill loses its calm, and a jittery hand smears the ink. It will not be easy._

_It might indeed have been a primitive challenge of the very own pride in the beginning, worthy a warrior at most. Now it's become impossible to escape the attraction of the unclouded night sky. A weird kind of spell, a fire that devours Age-old walls._

_Maybe even for the Watcher, there is this home that he was never born into._

*** ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ***


	13. Chapter 13

Tarisilya had actually come to Lord Elrond's stables for the sick mare, but she wasn't unhappy about Arwen disturbing her efforts. Just like expected, she wasn't making any progress. If Elrond speculated in her experimenting with something she'd never tried before, because such things were way too complicated for her still underdeveloped abilities, he would face bitter disappointment.

That didn't make watching a helpless animal die in pain easier though. It broke her heart, hearing the pretty dapple gray bristling at her when Arwen gently led her away from the den. Maybe the horse had also hoped that she would be able to help.

"He shouldn't have asked you," Arwen sighed. "It's just that he cares for her so much. Come, I have saddled up already."

"Are we taking a ride?" Tarisilya tried to smile, to leave the sadness behind. This wasn't the first patient whom she would lose. "Wait, you saddle your horses yourself? Don't you have servants for that?"

"Heavens, Ilya, do I look like someone who can't saddle their own horse?" Shuddering, Arwen let out that light, soft laughter that not only male elves could fall in love with immediately.

"Taking a ride? No way. We can try that later if you're still able to then." Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

Right, that. Suddenly Tarisilya wasn't sure if she really wanted to try this peculiar saddle. Getting up on the slightly plump, aged gelding that Arwen had selected for the training, was an adventure by itself.

In the end, she had to use a bench. When had she last needed a climbing aid? "Not a word!"

"It was you who wanted this …" Arwen tried in vain to stay serious. To make up for her chuckle, she helped Tarisilya find the right position, with her left leg stretched out, her foot in the stirrup, and the right one bent over the curve of the horn.

"What's that for?" Confused, Tarisilya stared at a richly painted, long cane that Arwen held out to her.

"For steering and spurring."

"I have never beaten a horse in my life, I'll not make a habit out of that now." Shaking her head, Tarisilya tapped the lower leg pressed closely against the gelding's body on his side.

Which resulted in the animal carrying out an elegant semi-circle. " _Not a word_!"

But Arwen was at the end of her self-control. Snorting with laughter, she sank onto the wobbly wooden bench. "You're a striking reminder of my own first experiments. Let's try this another way. Move! The training court is waiting for us." Lining up with the gelding, she gave him a light pat on his round croup.

The first steps made Tarisilya feel very insecure with her seat still, but soon enough, her body began to adapt to the new position, and her legs weren't cramping anymore. "This is self-torment. Who invented this?"

"My grandmother showed me. You will have to complain to her." Just mentioning Lady Galadriel's name seemed to spoil every cheerful mood in Imladris immediately these days.

"Will you now tell me what's going on?" Gathering her courage, Tarisilya took one hand off the saddle edge, carefully placing it on Arwen's shoulder while trying her best to not lose balance.

"They want to lock me away." Arwen's beautiful full lips formed a thin line. Her gaze turned to the palace where Lord Elrond and his wife were probably having breakfast right now, watching every of their daughter's step, as if she was an elfling again.

"Haruni says that something might happen to nana, but what does that have to do with me? The valley is secure. No one gets in here, least of all any orcs. If they keep this up, ada will shunt me off to Lórien."

"I admit, personally, I wouldn't mind that too much," Tarisilya smiled weakly. "But wouldn't he be better off, showing you two how to defend yourself?" Too late, she remembered that the Lord would probably not appreciate Tarisilya persuading his daughter into asking for that. Elves and their damn traditions! Why did people fail to see that some things had to change if circumstance demanded it?

"I could swear, I heard that before." This knowing grin somehow was boding ill ...

Before Arwen could do as much as ask, Tarisilya snatched the cane out of her hand, as they were arriving at the fenced court anyway. "Let's get started." She sat up as straight as possible and overcame her initial reluctance, carefully tapping the cane on the horse's shoulder for the first time.

Since nothing but an unwilling snort followed, she supposed she could try a little harder and stroke out again. Arwen's warning shout, she heard too late.

The gelding went from standing straight to galloping, kicking one leg like a frisky foal, and within two leaps, sent his rider sailing to the ground.

This time, Arwen didn't feel like laughing, because while Tarisilya managed to free her foot from the stirrup in time, she fell right against the low fence. Laying on the ground, dazed, she tried to catch her breath, one hand pressed to her stomach.

"Are you alright, Ilya? Should I get ada?"

"Do I look like someone who can't heal herself?" Tarisilya replied when she could finally talk again, mimicking Arwen's tone from earlier. "Just give me a second. A stupid saddle won't defeat me."

"What now?" Puzzled, Arwen watched a second rider entering the court. "Erestor? What are you doing here?"

"Keeping you from killing our honored visitor, milady, so her father doesn't declare war on Lord Elrond."

"What do you want?" Tarisilya felt both irritated and a little flattered. "I don't have time right now, can't you see that? I thought you hated horses."

"They fulfill their purpose." Before Tarisilya could process what he had in mind, Erestor bent down and lifted her up, with remarkable strength, sitting her down in front of him, with both her legs on one side.

"Forgive me, Lady Arwen, but Ilya and I have an appointment."

"Do we?" Tarisilya protested, torn between laughing at the unexpected initiative and scowling at him, because she hated being dragged around like that. It was original though, she had to give him that.

"I'll bring her back tonight … maybe," Erestor grinned at a completely blindsided Arwen before getting the horse to trot, leaving the court behind.

"This is an abduction! If somebody asks, tell them, I had no part it this," Tarisilya shouted at her friend.

"You are crazy," she growled, less aggressively than planned. "Can I at least have my own horse? Or sit properly? If I don't, I'll be falling off again in a minute." That damn side-saddle had been uncomfortable enough, but sitting like this in a normal one, she had hardly any purchase at all.

"No," Erestor answered coolly. "So you better hold on tight since we're about to gallop."

"What? You can't … _Hey_!" A small scream on her lips, Tarisilya wrapped her arms around his shoulders when he promptly acted on his threat. How did this bastard keep on getting her to touch him? And by all heavens, why wasn't it bothering her more?

Why overthink this? The whole thing was funny enough; the looks on the faces of the elves they were passing by, were worth it alone. No reason to let rules of propriety ruin yet another day.

"Where are we going?"

"I promised you something, remember? What?" The proximity created by the situation, allowed Erestor to immediately notice the tears in Tarisilya's eyes.

"Nothing." She stared down on the horse's neck, embarrassed. Instinctively, her eyes were drawn to the strong hand on the reins. The other had a safe grip on her waist, without trying to touch her in a way she didn't want.

Taking a deep breath, Tarisilya tilted her head back, enjoying the wind in her hair, the light of an undimmed sky brightening their path, wherever it would lead. Suddenly, she felt happier than in years, in centuries maybe.

Her head came to rest on the shoulder of the elf who caused that feeling, in a way she couldn't quite comprehend yet. Even if it was only for a few minutes: She wanted to stop thinking. "I'm just not used to people keeping promises to me anymore."

"You look like you saw a ghost, youngling." Glorfindel joined Arwen when she brought the gelding back to the stables, a smirk on his face.

For once, she didn't bother telling him that she had seen way too many centuries, for him to still call her that. To Glorfindel, she would always be the elfling whom he had taught how to ride his horse, before she had been walking.

"Worse. Something much less likely. Erestor has fallen in love."

It surprised her when Glorfindel grew serious at once. Sighing, he stared at a black stallion in the distance, carrying two elves away from the city. "Maybe. And here I thought …" He stopped mid-sentence.

"Whatever you said to him: Apologize." There was nothing worse than two friends trying to prove for Ages already, who of them was the stubborn one. "I think, this is serious. It's important to him."

Arwen expected Glorfindel to be happy. After all, he had always been the one trying to lure Erestor out of his reclusion. Instead, the general's expression grew dark as if she'd just told him that Sauron planned to declare a new war on the Free Folks, with a Balrog leading his troops. "Yes. That will be the problem."

The ride took but half an hour, still Tarisilya felt like entering a whole new world. The fast gallop didn't leave them with enough air to talk, and Tarisilya was too busy marveling at the scenery anyway. While Lord Elrond, Arwen or the twins had often taken her for rides, this area at the foot of the mountains in the east didn't feel familiar.

When Erestor headed for an especially narrow, steep switchback, for a moment she wondered if he was mistaking a horse for a mountain goat. But after a few bends, two different paths branched off the trail. They were on the one slightly leading back down before taking a sharp turn to the right, ending at one of the smaller waterfalls that shaped Imladris so much.

Before Tarisilya could protest, the stallion already ran through it, so quickly that a short shower was raining down on them only. One Tarisilya didn't get a share of, because Erestor threw his cloak over her in time.

"So you can be charming after all." Still a little on edge, she opened her eyes again. They grotto they were crossing, hardly measuring more than 20 yards, was filled with countless glistening stalactites. The sunlight shining through both entrances lit them up in all kinds of blindingly bright colors.

Tarisilya only realized that she was staring with her mouth gaping, when Erestor reached for her chin and gently closed it for her. "Have you never been here before?" He slowed the horse down to a walk, giving Tarisilya time to enjoy the view.

"I guess the Lord forgot to show us." Tarisilya shielded her eyes with her hand. Looking at the same spot for too long was impossible, the sparkling light quickly started to hurt. "It's overwhelming. Can't we stay here for a while?"

"Too bright," Erestor denied with a sad smile. "At daylight it's blinding too much, and at night, there's hardly enough moonlight in here to make it look half as spectacular. Deceiving and evanescent, as most beauty is that at first sight seems perfect."

"Too bad." Erestor's bitterness reminded Tarisilya of the paragraph she had read in his book, but she didn't dare asking.

It was obvious that the other elf couldn't trust anything that seemed flawless. Something in this regard must have hurt him badly. If someday he felt like it, he would tell her.

Exiting the cave, they ended up at a clearing between the last cluster of trees, separating the valley from the mountains. "Milady …" Erestor dismounted and offered Tarisilya his arm, with an exaggerated bow.

She gently pushed it aside and jumped down by herself. "I can ride. Don't even start with that nonsense unless you're looking for an appropriate answer. Did you bring it?"

"The trip wouldn't make much sense if not, would it?" Erestor unsaddled and unhooked the reins, allowing the horse to graze nearby on its own for a while. Taking off his grey cloak, he revealed two short bows, noticeably simple in their design. One of them Tarisilya already knew.

"Not quite what you expected?" He noticed her surprise immediately.

"I have tried some shooting before. Long ago."

Again, that feeling of taking an arrow right to her heart. Why couldn't she let this go? Was it her fate to suffer from such memories for centuries to come still, like the one of a rainy afternoon by the Celebrant when Legolas had taught her how to hold a bow, just for fun?

She refused to think about that right now. Erestor was at least not lecturing her about trying not to hurt herself. "That bow looked a little different though."

"I know weapons of Lórien." Erestor screw up his nose. "I mean no disrespect to your forgers, but your realm leaders place a little too much value on appearance. Those ornaments, the white color, all of that might look pretty but first and foremost, a bow must be light. Every additional weight only makes it harder to nock and aim. Pure blatancy. But don't you ever tell Haldir, I said that."

"Don't worry. I don't plan to shout this from the rooftops. I don't want to be a soldier. I don't want to make a name for myself by killing, like others do. I just don't want to be helpless." Tarisilya returned his good-natured wink and then tried raising the weapon for the first time. Like the one back then, it wasn't made for her arm's length, but she could make it work.

How simple it could be. How simple it could be, being treated like a grown-up, not like someone who constantly needed protection and shelter. How simple it could be, being allowed to learn something that you had always wished for, even if it was only a few clumsy first attempts at walking.

How easy it could be, being accepted for what you were, without being constantly criticized.

And how easy it could be, learning more about someone avoided by many other elves, because his hard shell put them off too much to try and get to the core.

When Erestor repeatedly came to stand behind her, correcting her posture, her arms, her hands, her back, her legs … Only now she realized how in his presence, she kept on forgetting that she didn't like people touching her. It was a necessary part of training, nothing more. While Tarisilya still couldn't tell what Erestor was expecting from all this, he left no doubt that for him, it was just the same.

Though Tarisilya had not acted as childishly as with this elf for a long time, in just a few days, he had actually made her grow up a big deal.

"I'm not doing it!"

"Come on, Ilya, let go of it."

"Forget it! I'm not shooting while you're in my way!"

"I'm six feet away from that tree. Now, come on. I want you to finally hit something."

Finally? Tarisilya pouted. It was her first real lesson, what did Erestor expect? Admittedly, so far, she missed the target by what felt like a thousand miles. Which was why she would definitely not try to hit that tree trunk with Erestor standing right next to it. "Step aside, I'm warning you."

"You need a motivation to concentrate more." The whole thing seemed to be very amusing to him. "Maybe you should try shooting me, then you'll definitely hit the tree."

"Idiot. I hope you'll take the arrow to where it really hurts." Fine then. She had warned him. For the umpteenth time this afternoon, Tarisilya shot an arrow, without even thinking about it again.

Dumbfounded, she stared at the long-handled missile suddenly stuck in the birch. "Oh."

"You see? Why is no one ever listening to me?" With a dramatic sigh, Erestor sat down by the small stream winding its way through the ground in irregular curves, and cooled his skin to make the stinging summer heat bearable. Elves were usually hardly bothered by temperature, but it was hard to ignore that the pale librarian didn't feel comfortable under the unclouded sky.

"Thank you for your help." Tarisilya knelt down next to him. She didn't find words to express how euphoric she felt. If all of the summer would be like this, she would leave Imladris a very happy elf this time.

"You're a good teacher. And not half as bad a shot as you say. Why aren't you fighting in the army anymore?"

Erestor's expression immediately turned so unapproachable that Tarisilya could kick herself.

"Forgive me. It is not my place to bother you with questions." Blushing, she cast her eyes at the shallow water, the dozens of tiny fish splashing about there, one constantly zipping by the other as if they were playing.

"Why? How else are you supposed to have a conversation? Etiquette is vital for negotiations but don't let it ruin your everyday life. If there's something I don't want to tell you, you'll know. Usually, you just won't get an answer then."

For many long seconds, Erestor did stay silent, looking so grim that Tarisilya was tempted to change the subject after all. "I was never really good with a sword. My strengths always lay more in theory. Strategies, tactics, planning. And even for that, they had better people than me. In times when every elf was needed at the front, I never copped out of fighting, and I still wouldn't. But I was relieved when Lord Elrond asked me to serve at his court. That way, I could retire without feeling like I was abandoning people." Erestor's right hand was busy stroking his left wrist, unconsciously, Tarisilya was pretty sure.

His tense, restless posture revealed that the story wasn't over yet. Except for Lady Galadriel, Tarisilya had seldom met someone with a body control as perfect as Erestor's.

"Do you regret quitting sometimes?"

Erestor slowly hunched a shoulder. "I didn't have much of a choice. A few centuries ago, when it became clear that there was trouble in the east again, I felt like I had to go back to my roots. You need to realize, nearly everyone in my family was a warrior. I thought I could at least keep up a part of this tradition. Be better prepared, if the worst case would happen. But after a few years, Glorfindel discontinued my training."

Which did explain the tension between the two elves. Suddenly Tarisilya felt stupid for her own exaggerated reaction yesterday. "Why?"

Instead of answering, Erestor bunched the sleeves of his robe and his thin tunic up to his shoulder. Several bruises covered his upper arm, shimmering in all colors of the rainbow. A bad contusion, maybe even a severe sprain, and it couldn't be old.

"How did that happen? I thought you're not training anymore." Shaking her head, Tarisilya tried reading in the shape of the injury how you could hit something so clumsily.

"I have no idea. Exactly," Erestor nodded when she looked up, flabbergasted. "I was born without the ability of experiencing much pain already. In the last centuries, it became more extreme though. Glorfindel can't take responsibility for training someone who doesn't know when his body needs a break."

For some minutes, Tarisilya didn't speak, for more than one reason. As a healer, she thought to have seen a lot, especially on short visits to settlings of Men with her brother and father. She loved to help there when the sick and wounded needed her. But this condition was completely new to her.

Besides, she wondered how lonely Erestor really was if no one realized, not even Lord Elrond as one of the best healers of this Age, that he was slowly necrotizing in both body and mind.

Her hand found the discolored places on his arm all by itself. The touch wasn't of much use on a nearly healed injury, but she had an infallible suspicion that Erestor had not felt the warming energy of a healer for way too long. "So you can't feel that either?" Why did her voice suddenly sound like she'd caught one of these weird diseases of the airways that Men used to suffer from?

Maybe Tarisilya was another big exception among the elves and could become ill? There was no other explanation for her body suddenly starting to trembling when Erestor put his hand on hers.

"That I feel." His voice sounded unusually huskily as well. For a moment, all over-confidence left his expression. Now he looked like in the library, when he had talked about his book. Hesitating, taken by surprise … and happy.

And his face was suddenly coming closer and closer to hers.

Only now, Tarisilya realized what was happening. Startling, she recoiled. What was he doing? Had she been signaling Erestor that she was falling in love with him?

She had. The answer was clear, and the trembling grew worse. This time, it came from fear, and from the memory of her dream last night. The voice, Legolas' accusing words … Was she about to do exactly what that illusion had blamed her for, leave him alone? Give him up, run away from a relationship that had never been easy but demanded so much patience?

Tarisilya had never had a doubt that she possessed that. That this wonderful feeling, Legolas had caused inside of her, was enough to tolerate the long time of deprivation.

Why couldn't she bring herself to speak up then, and tell Erestor what was wrong?

"I told you, Ilya: Usually, I don't bite." He took her indecision the wrong way, grabbing her chin again. This time when she tried to back off, he didn't let go.

It was that patronization that finally woke Tarisilya up, before his lips could touch hers. How could he _dare_? Legolas would never force her into anything that she didn't want. Not in this regard. Not when it was about something, she handled with so much care as who to surrender her body to in any way.

Angrily, she broke away and raised her hand to slap Erestor. Just in time, his conciliating gesture and the contrite look on his face revealed that he had come back to his senses.

"I didn't mean that, Ilya. I'm sorry. I read you wrong."

Abruptly, she got up. "Never try that again. Leave me alone."

Turning away from him, she ran towards the woods. The desire to be alone was stronger than any concerns of what was waiting there, or how she was supposed to get home.

She expected Erestor to shout something at her, like Legolas surely would have. Or to come after her, because it was much too risky, leaving her alone in an unfamiliar place. But just like she had asked him to, he let her go.


	14. Chapter 14

After several hours of staring into the emptiness of earthy ground, in spite of her absent-mindedness, Tarisilya sensed that a rider was approaching her. Since it was about to get dark, that was a relief. Maybe the ever-present paranoia in the house of Elrond had infected her, but she didn't feel like spending the night outside like she often did at home.

Expecting Erestor, she blinked in surprise, straightening up on her beech limb, when she spotted Tegiend's stallion in the distance. "How did you find me?"

"You made a few friends in high positions who love to spill certain secrets." Her brother steered his horse close to the tree and stopped right under her. "Come on, it's getting late."

Tarisilya slid down on the barebacked animal and tiredly wrapped her arms around Tegiend's waist. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you worry."

"It's alright. Thanks to Arwen, I knew where you were." He looked back over his shoulder with a short smile. "Though I had to ask twice, admittedly, if that eccentric librarian really meant me when he addressed me at the training yard … He really cares about you, doesn't he? Erestor only left the clearing when one of Lord Elrond's soldiers passed by and took over from him."

Tarisilya took a deep breath, trying to answer and burst into tears instead.

"Even worse than I thought then." Sighing, Tegiend turned to her to take her in his arms. "What is it, Ilya? Don't you like him? Then just go and tell him. You're both grown ups, he'll handle it." He tapped his knuckles against her temple, pushed back her bangs from her face. "To know what's going on in there, I don't even need to read your mind. It's not been that long since last I saw that look in your eyes."

"Then you should remember why it doesn't matter if I like him or not." More tears came as the memory, and the yearning for something she might never be able to have, tortured her once more.

Instead of comforting her, Tegiend once more summoned all that pain, the short encounter with Legolas had left. "Come on, Ilya. He's long gone. Do you want to live your life in loneliness?”

"He'll wait for me. He said that …” She heard of course, how desperate that sounded, how she was clinging to something that had not even been put in such concrete words.

"If you really think so, I'll let you ride to Mirkwood immediately." Demonstratively, Tegiend pretended to dismount. "If you are firmly convinced that Legolas is waiting for you and wants to present you to his father as his betrothed, I am not going to stop you. Then you don't even need me to escort you. I'm letting you leave here and now."

Tarisilya should have hated him for his merciless behavior, but the helplessness gained the upper hand. "I miss him! Can't you see that? When will you understand how deep this thing has gone?”

"I never doubted that. That is exactly why I want you to get over it instead of suffering forever. He wouldn't want you to be in so much pain." Gently, her brother took her face between his hands. "He's a good friend of yours, that's how you said good-bye. You will always be close. But if fate decided that you are not meant for each other … Remember? I already told you that."

"I remember." And still these words left cruel emptiness in her soul, along with the bottomless fear that Legolas would indeed find someone else, an elf who was a much better match for him and whom his father would easily accept.

But wasn't it Tarisilya in truth, who had cleared out a tiny but undeniably existing part of that space in her heart, that only Legolas had occupied so far? "I feel like I'm betraying him."

"So far, you have done nothing of the sort. No one suggests hurling yourself into something new immediately." Tegiend insistently wiped the tears off her cheeks. "I'm sticking to it, Ilya: If Legolas is destined to be your husband one day, then it will happen. Then somehow, your way will lead you back to him. But if he is not, wouldn't it be stupid, wasting the chance of something just as beautiful?"

"Oh, and _he_ is the right one for you?" she asked, cynically. "The eccentric librarian fits the mold?"

"Now you're being childish again." Tegiend let go of her. "Back then, you didn't know what you were doing. Now you're old enough. I don't need to worry anymore that when you go for a walk with someone, you'll be back with an engagement ring on your hand."

"As if." The absurd idea elicited a laugh. "So you think I should …?"

"I don't think anything, except that you should be in bed. You're deadbeat." Tegiend urged his horse into a fast trot. "The rest you'll have to decide for yourself. You've got my blessing."

Well, that was at least more than Tarisilya had had last time.

"Erestor left something for you at our door, by the way." Tegiend manged to sound _almost_ casual when after a quick ride, they walked to the guesthouses. "I put it next to your bed."

Now he had actually made her curious. Tarisilya waited impatiently until her brother left for dinner snacks with the twins somewhere outside the city gate, then she quickly lit a few candles to find out what Erestor had come up with this time. Hadn't she been clear enough about wanting him to leave her alone for a while? She should just throw that thing out of the window, whatever it was …

A snow-white cloth, soft as a precious blossom, touched her skin when she bent to the bundle on the floor. The corners were knotted around a long rose stem; she had to open them apart very carefully to not break it or hurt herself with the thorns.

A book fell into her hand, jet black with a silver crescent painted on it. There was no title, no author's name on the cover, but on the inside, someone had noted a few words with fresh ink, in a handwriting that Tarisilya knew like no other by now.

_one of a kind_

_from the halls of the keepers back to the cradle_

_to protect the secret_

With her hand trembling, Tarisilya turned the page. Minutes later only, she had forgotten about all the librarians and overly worried twin brothers in the world.

The sun had long risen when Tarisilya fell asleep over her readings again. In the late afternoon only, completely confused and disorientated, she was woken up by someone storming the guesthouse without even knocking.

"Ilya? Are you there?"

"Arwen?" Tarisilya quickly grabbed a dressing gown to wear on top of her nightdress and opened the bedroom door. "Has something happened?" She couldn't remember ever seeing her friend so upset.

"The soldiers … An attack. Hurry, come outside." The other elf left before Tarisilya could ask her anything.

Only now, Tarisilya realized that Tegiend had been gone the whole night. Sure, sometimes he left with the twins for days, it happened. Still, this time she had hardly noticed. What kind of sister was she?

She didn't bother fumbling around with a dress, instead just put one some wide breeches and a tunic that belonged to Tegiend, and ran outside. She couldn't care less about showing clear traces of a too long night.

Her instinct brought her to the halls of healing where many elves had gathered around a group of exhausted horses. Some animals suffered from deep wounds to their legs. Several of their riders just got carried to the building. Most of them were soldiers – but there were also a few very special guests. Six hobbits were part of the company, each of them hurt badly by claws and teeth, as far as Tarisilya could tell from the distance. Two didn't look like they would last the night.

The twins and her brother were nowhere to be seen.

Arwen stood at the entrance of the halls, with Glorfindel beside her. When Tarisilya approached, her knees going weak as the fear grew, of what she was about to hear, she turned around with a jerk. "Ilya …"

"Where are the others?" Tarisilya flared up. She had never cared less if her tone was polite enough for someone like Glorfindel or not.

Glorfindel of all people! Judging by the blood stains on his clothes, it was him who had taken Tegiend along or at least known about this. He had allowed this to happen, without even telling Tarisilya that her brother was going to battle, ignoring the possible consequences. Whatever had happened, he had not taken care of Tegiend well enough.

"Unknown." The other elf seemed unfazed by her anger. "The halflings were attacked by wolves last night. Tegiend and the twins protect the rest of them. We were separated. They will come."

"You left them behind?" Tarisilya ignored Arwen's silent warning as well as Lord Elrond joining them, probably to see who was yelling out here. "How could you just _leave them_?"

"Ilya!" Grabbing her shoulder, Arwen tried to pull her aside but Tarisilya broke away immediately.

"You cannot understand that, child of the moon." At least Glorfindel didn't sound that impassive anymore now. It seemed to be the impatience about someone trying to meddle with his work though, irritating him more than anything.

"I'm not a warrior but I know the meaning of loyalty and friendship!" Tarisilya returned, her hand fisting by her sides. "My brother is out there, alone with wild beasts! For my part, I won't just sit around here and wait for him to be killed!"

"What are you doing?" Arwen blocked her way before she could leave. Though her friend looked just as shocked by what had happened, she obviously trusted the hope that nothing would happen to her family.

"What do you think? I'm riding out, I'm going to to look for him."

"Absolutely not." Never before had Lord Elrond spoken to Tarisilya in such a tone. "I will not be responsible for your father asking me why you didn't come home at the end of summer, so you better forget that nonsense. You are under my protection, and I am ordering you to stay until this matter is solved. You want to disobey me, do not even bother coming back."

His expression only softened when he saw the tears in Tarisilya's eyes. "Scouts are looking for them already, but the area is big. The twins will bring him back. They have never disappointed me. Their calling as protectors of the innocent is more important than anything else to them. Even more than my explicit advice to not risk their healer abilities in battle. They never leave anyone behind, don't worry." Only at the end of that little speech, Tarisilya thought to see a thin crack in the mask of Elrond's composure. He could demand rationality all he wanted, of course he was worried about his sons as well. Leaving faster than necessary, he entered the halls of healing.

"He would never bluntly say so, but he really took a big liking to you two." Arwen shortly caressed Tarisilya's hand. "Don't be afraid. I'm sure they'll be back soon."

Tarisilya couldn't form an answer. Worry was still choking her.

She had nearly lost Tegiend to deadly animals before. This time, there weren't any wargs, but he had to care for a group of helpless beings who for a wolf, weren't anything more than an appetizer. Tarisilya needed no gift of foresight to know what her brother would do, if getting himself into lethal danger for one of them was required.

She needed distraction, right now. Since they didn't seem to need her in the halls of healing, she had to look for something else to do.

Tarisilya had no idea how Erestor found her so quickly in the multi-part stable buildings. She didn't care either. She was just happy to hear his long, hurried steps in the halls, though she had only yesterday wished to never see him again.

She didn't look up though when he stopped at the den, because she didn't want him to see her reddened eyes. "I can't accept this book. It's much too valuable."

"I know it to be in good hands. Besides, I doubt that the Lord even knows it exists." Audibly relieved that she wasn't angry anymore, Erestor waited for her to raise her head.

"Did you read it?" In spite of having way more important things to worry about right now, Tarisilya was appalled how much of her family's secret was contained in that book. Albeit it was a collection of stories about children of the moon who had lived long before her, and didn't even mention her mother, she felt like the author had deeply invaded her life.

"Only a few lines. I didn't want to hurt your privacy." Erestor returned her relieved smile. Noticing her embarrassment about what had happened at their first meeting, he put her off. Not now.

Opening a painfully narrow gap with the gate only, he squeezed through and knelt down on the other side of the sick mare who had just fallen asleep. Her head resting on Tarisilya's lap, she was breathing heavily.

"So you are giving it a try after all."

"It gives me the illusion that I can make a difference at least," she answered bitterly.

"You're not as helpless as you think, Ilya. Only when you let others push you into that role."

He meant well but right now, she just couldn't handle empty encouragement. "Oh, really? Why are you working in the library of all places then? Why aren't you doing something to be allowed joining the guard again?"

"Would you prefer me to be there?" Suddenly Erestor treated her just as hostile and distanced as in the beginning, offended by her showing the same behavior that he hated so much about others. Afraid that she thought of him as counting less than others, just because he didn't wield a sword.

"No, it's what _you_ would prefer." Tarisilya had lost her patience with people who didn't try even getting what they wanted. "You just don't want to risk anything for it."

"The books and me, we're quite a good match." Erestor tried his best to not become even angrier, for her sake. In vain. "We keep things that most people don't want to remember and that you only dig up when fate forces your hand."

"Are you even listening to yourself? If you hate your life so much, _do_ something about it." Getting up, Tarisilya quickly left the den. Loud, annoyed voices were the last thing that would help the animal.

"How? Heavens, you think this all so easy, Ilya." In a way, she liked that annoyed tone better than all the compliments he had given her. She felt that this was a much more honest side of him. That with her, he seemed to lose all his inhibitions and said exactly what was going on in his head.

It gave her the feeling of being taken seriously, which was something, certain other people around her failed to achieve. That even distracted her from her sorrow for a while. After a moment of hesitation she reached out her hand to him, to get him to follow her. There were better places for such conversations. "Maybe you think it too difficult. Come with me."

Until they reached the library, Erestor kept holding her hand, and for some odd reason she forgot to pull it away.

"Do you have some of that terrible hillside herb tea left? Using a nerve sedative actually sounds pretty good right now." For lack of another choice, Tarisilya sat down on one of the few empty areas of Erestor's desk. After he had handed her a steaming full cup, she allowed him to take a seat right in front of her but shook him off immediately when he crossed his arms on her thighs. "Wait. Didn't I make it clear yesterday that I can't keep up with your speed?"

"That's not all though, is it?" Erestor moved his chair away from her but didn't leave her out of his sight. "There is someone else. Don't look at me like that. It is really quite obvious. You look like being caught doing something forbidden, every time I touch you."

"He … hasn't been around for a long time." Tarisilya wasn't sure why she was telling that to someone she hardly knew. That she was unable to just get up and leave though probably meant that there was a reason for it. "But he … he wanted to come back." To Erestor, she didn't mention a promise that had never existed anyway.

What else had Legolas been for her than a stranger fascinating her? Their meetings could be counted on the fingers of one hand. On such a fragile foundation, how could she ask of him to assure her, he would be back? Under preconditions that couldn't be worse? Sauron's soul would have to commit suicide before there could be peace between Lórien and Mirkwood.

Tarisilya wasn't deceiving herself: Legolas still meant a great deal to her. Giving up dreams always hurt. She had dreamed of a relationship with him for far too long to forget that from one day to the next. But maybe it was time to try at least.

"Do you want him to come back?" Erestor got up to make sure they were on eye level, and that Tarisilya could see how serious he was being. "Are you fully convinced that you want to wait for him?"

"I don't know." Now she had said it, now there was no way back, not even inside her head. Illusions were futile. No matter how badly she wanted to be in denial about it: The past centuries had not left her first tender feelings for another elf untouched. And he wasn't there to rebuild them. Maybe he never would. "I don't think he would even want that. I just know that it hurts when he isn't there on days like these, when I need him most."

Her right hand seemed to develop a life of its own suddenly. It suddenly came way too close to Erestor's face, and if it was only to find out if touching him would be different than Legolas. Maybe that would have eliminated these darn memories …

She couldn't. Not that quickly. She lowered her hand again. "It's the distance between him and me that allows whatever is going on in my heart right now. If it it will get stronger, then I guess that is a fate that I have to accept. But I can't promise you anything. I understand if that's not good enough for you. The deeper this goes, the more it will hurt, not only you but me as well, when I won't be able to let go after all."

Erestor took the cup that she had hardly touched anyway and put it away. Grabbing her right hand then, gently, without pushing her, he put it against his chest to make her feel how fast his heart was beating. "I'll make sure you can let go, Ilya, for this is what's going on in my heart. And I am here. I won't be running away."

She appreciated that he wanted to go through all of that waiting, not even knowing if it was of any use. But the excitement of a possible new beginning didn't want to fill her. Pulling her hand away, she placed it on his shoulder for a moment before carefully pushing him away.

Before the disappointment could even really show on his face, she leaned forward to breathe a kiss to his temple. "Please don't be mad. Right now, I can only think about my brother."

"Come." With an understanding nod, he offered her his arm. "Let's make the best of the time while we wait."

"By doing what?" The bitterness was back already. "By reading up how to behave in such a situation?"

Erestor accepted the little dig without batting an eye. "No. By practicing, in case it gets worse. The training court will be nearly emptied by now."

Since Tarisilya couldn't think of anything better, at least not of anything that wouldn't make her check the position of the sun every few minutes or ask for news in the palace, she accompanied him.

Today, she hit the target more than once. And to her surprise, indeed, no one at the training court took much cognizance of a female elf handling a bow, just like Lord Elrond had said.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, there is the first of at least one song that I put in every part of this series. As there is more singing in some of Tolkien's works than in a Disney movie, I very much enjoy including those once in a while. Since I don't speak even a word of any elven language though, and since I don't know anyone masochistic enough to translate, the songs are in English. Just skip them if that's not your cup of haunted bog water.
> 
> Oh, and don't let the ongoing fluff in that chapter scare you off. Pretty sure it's actually the last time that's happening in the whole series.

Considering how tenacious Erestor had been from the start, Tarisilya was positively surprised that he left her completely alone in the days to follow. He neither headed her off at the guesthouses nor did he join her on her long walks through the valley. During her healing attempts in the stables, she stayed by herself as well, just like when Arwen was trying in vain to cheer her up. Though Tarisilya's thoughts were mostly revolving around Tegiend, she appreciated the freedom Erestor was giving her, and that he tried to consider her needs. It made the wait easier. Right now, she just didn't have any strength right now to deal with him.

That was also why, once she just didn't know what to do with herself anymore, she sought out the library at a time when she could hope to be alone there. It was completely dark in the large hall, so she seemed to be lucky. Taking one of Lord Elrond's works from its shelf, she retired to a seating area, lit up all candles in both stands and tried to concentrate on the book.

It was no use. She couldn't free her mind from the ongoing worry. For some reason, the room suddenly felt too big for her. The shelves seemed taller than they were, as if the massive shapes would try to crush her any minute. The ancient wood was creaking every now and then. Normal noise, of course, but she had never noticed on a talan how often that actually happened. It had her startle every single time. Once in a while, some tremor in the building made the huge ceiling lights jangled as well, as if they only waited for Tarisilya to stand right under them, so they could detach from their hooks and fall on her head …

A woman in a settlement of Men had once told Tarisilya that at this hour, the mind of their folk reached its lowest point. While for elves there wasn't much difference between day and night, right now she felt the same. A room usually filled with business became unfriendly when it was deserted. It emphasized the feeling of loneliness that tormented Tarisilya's soul ever since Tegiend's disappearance.

She should leave but what was she supposed to do in her room? She would just notice that it was much too empty as well. Here, she could at least enjoy the illusion that Tegiend would be in the guesthouse when she came back.

After reading the first page for the third time and realizing that she still had no idea what it was about, Tarisilya heard quiet noise from Erestor's office. Rustling, the squeak of leather. She wasn't as alone as she had thought. "Did I wake you?"

"Sleep is a hopelessly overrated habit." Erestor approached her with a yawn. For the first time, she saw him barefoot, and wearing only a quite wrinkly, overlong tunic with a pointed neckline, offering a good view on his chest. Though he tried to sound jaunty, he nearly stumbled over the table and more fell onto the chair across from her than sitting down. Not even elves could startle from deep sleep and immediately demonstrate full physical and mental control.

It looked like he would fall asleep again, when he'd found a comfortable position on the broad armchair, with his legs folded by his side, his head leaned against the back rest, but in the weak candle light, Tarisilya could clearly see the glint in his eyes. He was watching her.

He probably expected her to say something, but she was too exhausted to think of a subject. And after a few minutes of just looking at other, watching the other, without too much curiosity, smiling without signaling anything in particular, they realized that it wasn't necessary at all. It was good enough, enjoying the silence of the library together which now didn't seem as cold anymore, and not being alone in the dark.

"Sun is coming up," Erestor finally mentioned when the candles had halfway burned down. "Shall we go for a walk, just for a few minutes? Or take a ride? Do you want to train some more?"

"Not today." Tarisilya closed the book. Right now, nothing would come of reading anyway. "I actually came to Imladris to catch my breath, not to be choked by even more bad mood. The elves out there are all just waiting for something bad to happen. I don't even see the elflings laughing. What has changed so much? Why does no one have faith in peace anymore?"

"A much too heavy subject for this hour." Erestor pointed on the book. "You need one with pictures."

"With pictures? I'm not an elfling." At least he made her laugh.

"Wait for it." He vanished between two shelves, now with his usual agile, swift walk. From behind then, he put a very long book on her lap. "Open any page. But don't look. Close your eyes."

"That's silly." Tarisilya ducked a little because shivers started to spread on her neck from where gentle, warm breath was caressing her skin.

"Very," Erestor grinned. "As many other things were that happened in the last few days. I seldom felt so young before, Ilya. That can't be bad."

"Hardly," she agreed, smiling shyly. "Fine." Closing her eyes, she let her fingertips trace the stiff book edges, the unusually large gaps between the pages. Before she could pick one, she was suddenly brushing soft skin instead of rough parchment. "Are you trying to corrupt my choice?"

"Maybe …" This time, the breeze of his breath grazed her ear.

The shivers spread down to her back. A stupid little part of her suddenly wished to find out how it would feel if he would come even closer …

But Erestor stayed on distance, especially when he felt her starting to tremble; he pulled his hand away, too. Cold metal grazed Tarisilya's palm for a second. A ring, the first piece of jewelry she ever noticed him wearing.

Instead of following her curiosity to learn what it was, she finally opened the book. Instead of text or drawings, a dried, pressed flower was glued to the page, with a snow white cup-shaped blossom in full bloom.

"Since you don't want to go outside to see nature …" Erestor audibly enjoyed her childlike wonder.

There was a sample of the very same plant on every page, each showing an older version. At the very back of the book, a nearly withered blossom with a broken stalk had been immortalized. The first pages showed the development from a seed to full ripeness.

"There's two shelves of those, in case you want to see more."

"Is this your work?" Fascinated, Tarisilya skipped through the book again, slower now, taking a thorough look at every phase.

"No one knows who started the tradition, but when it started to be forgotten, I continued. Many of the plants have gone extinct by now."

When Tarisilya reached the last page again, Erestor placed his thumb on the blossom's greyish remains that in its best days looked so enchanting. "Many things on this world happen because no one remembers how to do better. I had to watch that happen again and again. I saw too much suffering of the Firstborn, Ilya. I even had to witness the flaming sun of Gondolin go down. At some point, you start trying to preserve whatever you can. In the end, that is probably what I'm really doing here. Trying to keep the moment. And hope that everything will come together when we need it to."

Tarisilya stayed silent, feeling shocked. Apparently, she knew even less about the past of Middle-earth than suspected. She promised herself to read up on all of that soon. But one thing she felt without knowing all the facts: the burden of millennia of memories that someone with Erestor's lifespan carried. How calmly he was bearing that, with the same composure that her father displayed for example, impressed her. She wondered if she would ever achieve such serenity.

This supposed new danger for Middle-earth suddenly seemed a lot realer and more threatening, when talking to someone who had lived to see many of these dark times, and who didn't try to spare her. The shadow was indeed growing. How else could it be that elves trained in battle like Elrond's sons and Tegiend had trouble defeating a primitive pack of wolves? Tarisilya's hands clenched around the book cover. Where in the world were the twins with her brother?

"Don't listen to me, I'm talking nonsense." Erestor rested his chin on her head and pressed a feather light kiss to her hair. "Nothing is certain. It's perfectly possible that things will take a turn for the better. That, as well, has been happening before. Not all visions of darkness come true."

The touch felt good. It chased away a little of the coldness in her body. Tarisilya carefully tipped her head back against Erestor's shoulder. "But this time, you think they will, don't you?" Her eyes automatically closed when the other elf's fingertips started to stroke her shoulder. It was alright. He was only trying to let her know that somebody was there for her, offering her support. Somebody who wouldn't just leave and never get in touch with her again.

"Again: Right now, nothing is certain. Sometimes I'm talking more than is good for me or others." Erestor had to laugh at his own dramatics. "I have to be careful or one day they'll file me in some shelf here as well. Probably in the last row, in the section 'sappy drama’.”

Tarisilya slid forward a few inches to be able to turn around to him – and to get her heavily beating heart under control. "I think you're talking like a real poet. Finish your book, Erestor. You have hidden down here long enough."

She expected annoyance about her trying to interfere with his life again, instead, he slowly nodded. She could swear, he was even blushing a little. "It's been a long time since I worked as much on it as in the last few weeks."

Only when Tarisilya squeezed his hand, delighted and excited at the same time, she noticed the ring again. Narrow, silver, with a star shaped black opal punctuated by a tiny sapphire in the center. "It's captivating."

"One of the few physical memories of my family left." Another honest emotion rippling through the usual mask of calmness, Erestor's eyes were suddenly glistening. Grief. "I was never like the others. I couldn't ever make a name for myself in a war. So I didn't feel worthy of wearing it. But now I have something worth fighting for," he added when Tarisilya questioningly raised her brows.

"I should try to sleep for a while." Tarisilya hastily got up and left the hall.

She should feel honored by Erestor's words. Instead, everything became too much for her, even more than it was already. Erestor expected too much but she couldn't bring herself to tell him. Maybe he was right, maybe the future was too much in motion to foresee all that could happen. What might maybe happen this summer already.

Without even consciously registering, Tarisilya had focused all her concentration on the work, Lord Elrond had tasked her with. Having felt so hopeless about the breeding mare's fate in the beginning, she was honestly stunned when after her visit in the library, she entered the stables and was greeted by a friendly neigh. The dapple gray was on its feet in the den, stretched out its head when Tarisilya approached and trustingly rubbed it against her shoulder.

"Looks like I underestimated your stubbornness, huh?" Very pleased, she put her arms around the animal's neck and nestled against the spotted fur which felt so much healthier and thicker than in the days before. A comparatively small victory but still a reason to hope that now, everything might be alright.

"Come on. You've been inside long enough." Putting a halter on the mare, she led her to the meadows surrounding the stables on a long rope, so she could breathe some fresh air and nibble a little grass. The animal's big appetite was the final proof of it being on the road to recovery.

Tarisilya's inner warning system flared up sensitively when she suddenly saw Erestor approach her on his stallion. Was he planning to start his attempts of courtship all over? But no, he didn't even notice her, being headed straight for the main road. Only when Tarisilya called his name, he stopped. "I thought you were going to bed."

"What are you doing?" Frowning, she looked upon his practical travel clothes, the bag fastened to his saddle and especially the bow he had shouldered. She better got used to Erestor being completely unpredictable, of being blindsided every other hour, by something he did.

"I want to find out why the twins haven't come back yet. Is this …?" Amazed, he dismounted, only noticing the mare standing next to Tarisilya just now. He stared at the animal as if it had turned into a cat. "How did you do that? She was as good as dead!"

"Stop deflecting." She grabbed his horse's reins, determined to not let him go without a good explanation. "You can't just go off on your own! You have no idea where they are."

"I didn't expect you of all people telling me these arguments." Erestor's sulky tone that matched the rest of his demeanor so little, made Tarisilya understand quickly.

For a moment, she was tempted to take his offer but her rationality was stronger. Especially since she knew what Tegiend would have thought about sending a civilian after him as reinforcement. After a trained marchwarden who usually could take care of himself quite well. "Let it be, Erestor. I'm grateful, you want to do this, more than you know, but I'm in enough trouble with the Lord." She nodded at the mare. "He knew exactly that I was going to do something that he wouldn't like."

"He'll have bigger things to worry about soon. Predators coming so close to Imladris means trouble." Erestor seemed to sense that she was being serious and gave up on his plan, for rational reasons, hopefully, not only for romantic ones. "This valley has always been a safe fortress. If even the west is getting under serious attack, there soon will be nothing left to keep the elves in Middle-earth at all."

He still was busy staring at the mare. It was obvious how much effort it took him to keep his curiosity in rein.

Well, Tarisilya didn't feel like being alone now anyway. And in spite of the mistakable situation in the library earlier, Erestor was definitely the most pleasant conversational partner at the moment. Arwen, she didn't want to disturb, her friend had enough problems with her parents. However, she didn't want to stay in a public place where somebody was always watching. Gossip about the two of them would reach Lórien soon enough.

"Take me with you outside, will you?" She got up on the barebacked horse. With aids that skilled elves needed neither saddle nor bridle for, she steered it to join Erestor's stallion. "I'm beginning to feel confined in this city. I want you to learn a bit more about me."

Since Tarisilya didn't want to demand too much of the mare, they stayed by the city gates, approaching one of the shallowly ascending foothills nearby. From the top, they would be able to see in all directions and not miss it if the twins would return this morning of all times. Besides, a few trees there created a shadowy spot and cover from any elves possibly passing by randomly – or not so randomly.

Tarisilya used the time of the ride to finally answer questions that Erestor had ever since their first evening in Lord Elrond's palace. She started by telling him about the abilities, the moon gifted its children with. That it amplified existing talents like her healing powers and supported spells that actually were way too difficult for her. That the price for such help was high though, because the fate of children of the moon was bound to their protector, the beginning of their life as well as its end.

Soon enough, she realized that she was confronted with a very critical listener. "You don't believe me, do you?"

"I'm still trying to decide what to make of it." Erestor kept his thoughtful gaze on her and the horse, a horse that had been on its deathbed and now showed no sign of exhaustion. "There's no denying that you're an exceptional healer. The stars have many powers, and by far not all of them get revealed to every elf. But don't you think you're reading a bit much into a legend that few people have ever heard of? You could never ask your mother."

"Do you think she would lie to me? She wrote this book for her kids, in case one of them would be like her." Tarisilya's eyes blazed with anger.

Erestor raised his hand in a calming gesture. "I'm talking about interpretation, not lies. About points of view. No one but a librarian knows better how many different meanings one single word can have. I do respect that it is so important to you. Especially in these dark times, one has to believe in things that stood the test. I just think it alarming that you make yourself dependent from the alleged will of a star."

"You can't understand that. I knew that before." Tarisilya tried to drop the subject with a vigorous shake of her had. "Not even my father can, and Tegiend only laughs at it, though it could have been him just as well. That's alright. I'm used to dealing with this alone."

"Because that way, you don't need to bring it into question," Erestor observed dryly. "Let's not do this now." When she got mad again, it was him, rather ending the conversation. "There's enough bearing down on you right now. This is it."

Swallowing her irritation reluctantly, Tarisilya dismounted and let the mare go off on her own, following Erestor to the very top of the hill. Beautiful indeed. It would even be comfortable if there was a place to sit down.

"One would think, with so many mountains close by, there should be some rocks around," she growled, searching the small site for a second time, without success.

"Is Imladris grass not good enough for the Princess of Lórien?" Erestor watched her attempts amused, braced against a tree trunk with his arms crossed.

"Don't call me that." She put her hands on her hips, not ready to listen to any more nastiness today. "This dress needs to stay white. And since you weird hermits who lock themselves up in houses around the clock, refuse to sit in trees …"

"Are you trying to provoke me?" Before Tarisilya knew what was happening, Erestor swept down on her, pressed her against another tree and started to tickle her.

He underestimated how much practice she had with such things though, thanks to her tussles with Tegiend. And how much strength she had in her long arms. She quickly made it to free herself and tried to keep the other elf on distance, but lost balance on the slanting ground in the process. Mostly for revenge, she dragged Erestor down with her, whereupon they rolled down the hill, still wrestling, breathless with laughter and very busy insulting each other. When the foot of the hill stopped their fall, Tarisilya came to lie on a comfortably warm and soft pillow, quite exhausted.

"Idiot." She had some stronger words on her lips but when she sat up and looked into a smiling face, she just had to smile as well. "You're hurt." Shaking her head, she wiped the blood off a scrape on Erestor's cheek that a twig had left.

"And you're dirty all over." Just as careful, Erestor rubbed her forehead with the sleeve of his tunic. "I guess that settles the matter of the white dress." The joke fell flat; the little dispute brought their bodies too close and wiped out every last restraint. Erestor's hand was still on her cheek when she had long pulled hers away, but he didn't push her again. He waited. His eyes were pleading, yearning.

Tarisilya quickly backed away and sat down beside him, before her tumbling emotions could make her answer to the silent invitation. Nearly … She had nearly given in. It only made her realize how much confusion there really was in her, how part of her wished to explore how it felt being with someone, what might happen then. But not when there was so much uncertainty left.

When she tried to scrub grass and mud from her face, she suddenly felt something in her hand that Erestor must have given her in the heat of the moment, without her realizing. Confused, she stared at the small scroll, raising her head with a frown when he stood up.

"I'll go see to the horses." Erestor looked embarrassed as she had never seen him before. It wouldn't surprise her if he buried his hands in the pockets of his tunic.

When Tarisilya opened the golden ribbon around the parchment, she knew why. Her cheeks deeply blushed, a dreamy grin curled on her lips. He really made an effort, she had to give him that.

_seeing through_

_no horizon in the end_

_endless lines in the dark_

_ending up_

_in dwellings of the lost_

_mind not even broken_

_found running_

_from the start_

_like colors washed by rain_

_found by one who knows_

_beholding inside_

_waiting to remember_

_found by falling stars_

_caught by the eyes of a dreamer_

_and a dream worth believing_

After reading the song for the third time, the writing blurred so much before Tarisilya's eyes that she rather put the parchment away to not get it wet. Although she had no idea what to tell him, she wanted Erestor to come back. He needed to understand that he didn't have to hide when he allowed her to look into his soul. She might be young, but she already knew exactly how careful one had to be with such a gift.

Lost in thought, she followed her companion but stopped dead in her tracks when she heard a loud growl from the forest area to the west. An aggressive, threatening growl. Whatever it was, it was big …

Before she could call for Erestor, a large group of grey hunters approached her on long, swift legs, with their mouths open and murderously widened eyes. Wolves.


	16. Chapter 16

After a moment of shock, of being unable to move a muscle, from the corner of her eyes Tarisilya spotted Erestor gallop towards her on his stallion. Relief turned to irritation when he shouted at her to get to safety. "And leave you alone?" She should have known. A façade only, all of it. When it came down to it, he wanted to see her in danger as little as everyone else.

"You have to. I need you to distract them. Climb one of the trees." Erestor stopped right in front of her to hastily thrust his bow and quiver into her hand. "Hurry. Up there, they won't be able to get to you, but maybe you can chase some of them away."

"And you?" With the animals coming closer and closer, Tarisilya's fear and rationality took over after all; she tried to run back up the hill as quickly as possible. They couldn't lose the wolves by horse. It was much more likely, the predators would bring down the stallion instead, considering how ravenous and feisty they looked. Maybe from a height, Tarisilya could actually make a difference. Definitely more than with a close-combat weapon.

Her misjudgment, she already regretted. Erestor did indeed not only respect that she wanted to fight, he even offered her a possibility to. Which meant that he would be facing a group of primitive but still dangerous enemies alone though, as good as unarmed.

At least not without any means. When Tarisilya took a short look back over her shoulder, anxious from the wolves' panting drawing closer, she saw a simple long dagger in Erestor's hand that apparently, he'd worn under his tunic. Better than nothing, but that would probably not last him long.

Just another motivation for her to lure a part of the pack away from him, and attack the beasts as soon as she could.

Attracting attention at least went according to plan. No less than six animals were on her heels, and they came ever closer.

Upping her tempo once more, Tarisilya reached the hilltop and pulled herself up a birch, relieved. That had been much too close. It did make a huge difference after all, being determined to show courage or actually being confronted with such a threat …

A loud scream escaped her lips when one of the wolves sank its razor-sharp teeth deep into her leg before she could climb out of reach. Only the smooth material of her dress and the momentum saved her from being dragged down. She managed to free herself and get away from the furiously barking animal that jumped up the tree, trying to get to her. Without avail, for now she was safe.

Tarisilya was too much of a healer to not know how deep the wounds were, that she couldn't just ignore them. With clenched teeth, she leaned against the trunk, wedging bow and quiver between her good leg and her torso, and tore off parts off her skirt to wrap them around her shank. Falling out of that tree through blood loss definitely wouldn't help Erestor.

Unfortunately, now she had lost time. The wolves' growls sounded definitely triumphing now. A pained, shrill neigh revealed that now it was Erestor's horse, feeling teeth on its body.

Tarisilya's hands were shaking with impatience and haste when she finally grabbed the bow. Her position made nocking most difficult, and the quickly growing pain allowed hardly one clear thought. Just like expected, the first arrows missed the animals by a great deal.

Only turning angrier by the second, they continued to jump up on the trunk, clawing at it, trying to find purchase to get to the top. What if they succeeded?

Quiet despair formed in Tarisilya, especially since the neigh in the distance had stopped.

It was replaced by disgusting sounds of tearing flesh and smacking that made her blood freeze. The wolves were already feasting on their prey. It had to be the horse being devoured over there, of course, anything else, she didn't even want to imagine. But the dense canopy of leaves made it impossible to go sure. Too much movement of too many swift grey bodies she saw, when allowing herself a short glance afar.

The worry gave her new strength. Fired her next shot with much more concentration, she hit one of the wolves in its side. Only in the side, fortunately, not in the heart. Tarisilya had not forgotten what both her father and Lord Elrond kept on trying to get into her head.

With a pained howl, the animal collapsed while the others immediately retreated from the tree, with their ears twitching back, suddenly not half as confident anymore.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Tarisilya lowered the bow when the wolves ran away as quickly as their legs carried them. That had been easier than expected. Could she chase away the ones at the foot of the hill just as fast? It was dangerous of course, but she couldn't stay idle.

Though jumped to the ground as carefully as possible, trying to land on her uninjured leg, the other gave away immediately when she tried to put weight on it. She could hold on to the tree just in time. After a second futile attempt to take a few steps, she realized, scared, there was no way she could help Erestor. She couldn't even climb back on the tree. If the wolves returned …

A movement by the slope had her startling with fright. Fortunately, it was her companion, alone, and he didn't seem too wrecked. The blood on his clothes and his skin couldn't be his, judging from how fast and upright he came running towards her.

"Are they gone?" This time, she gladly allowed him to take her in his arms and pull her to the ground, trying in vain to suppress a groan when her lower leg reacted with ever growing throbbing and burning to the smallest strain.

"They've probably seen enough elven arrows in their lives to fear them," Erestor nodded, after a short look at the injured wolf that had fallen unconscious. "We'll take him with us. Lord Elrond should examine him. These animals could have some kind of sickness to make them so aggressive."

He helped Tarisilya to lean back against the very same trunk that had probably saved her live and used his dagger to cut off large pieces of his tunic, to further contain the bleeding on her leg.

While trying to make out if Erestor was hurt as well, if any of the red stains of his skin were growing, the thought of the mare crossed Tarisilya's agitated mind. The boiling hot memory of how thoughtlessly she had gotten the animal into danger. It must have been way too exhausted to run away or defend itself. "What about the horses?"

"Celegar didn't make it." Erestor couldn't hide that losing the stallion had taken its toll. So he wasn't half as indifferent about horses as he'd pretended.

"As for your patient …" He forced a smile on his lips and pointed at the slope where the mare was just finishing her climb.

With a loud neigh, she approached her healer and nudged her shoulder.

"Looks like you're not getting rid of her anytime soon," Erestor realized. "The Lord will be cursing through his teeth for days. Horses pick their owners. You would spare him much grief and frustration if you just stayed in Imladris." From a remark actually meant as a joke, the same tension quickly sprung again that had been vibrating between them for days. Though the makeshift bandage was long finished, Erestor still had his hand on Tarisilya's leg.

"That's not as easy as you think." She forced herself to look into his eyes. For how much he was looking after her, he deserved full honesty. "I love Lórien, you know? Imladris is beautiful. Spending time here is both refreshing and liberating. Well, at least when no visions of darkness are haunting the residents. But I can never be at home anywhere but on a talan to overview my realm from in the morning. No places makes me feel equally as free and secure as our woods, where the leaves never fall. Their magic assures me every day that no shadow will ever disturb Middle-earth so much that it makes me want to leave."

"Nothing lasts forever, Ilya." The smile died away. Along with dark memories, the cool distance on Erestor's expression returned. "I wish I could keep you from having to find that out one day. I can just try to be there for you then. Who knows? Maybe Lórien marchwardens have more use for an enthusiastic warrior than Lord Elrond's general." He couldn't be serious, not yet; such a decision was way too crucial. You didn't make it on the basis of some vague feelings.

But that he was ready to think about it alone kindled that comfortable warmth in Tarisilya's soul, that Erestor's proximity was producing with increasing regularity. "Who knows?"

Gently shaking off his hand she tried to get up. That the wolves were driven away for now didn't mean, they wouldn't come back. They had to get away from here.

When Erestor startled, Tarisilya realized that she had found the injury she had been looking for. Quickly rolling up what was left of his tunic sleeve, she was confronted with an ugly wound that would have stopped many other elves from first fighting and then caring for a patient on top. Probably that strange condition again, he didn't even seem to have realized.

And still, his movements didn't look as precise as usual.

Following an instinct, Tarisilya placed her hand on the wound to affect it with her healing powers. Another violent startle followed. Now she could spot a few sweat beads on Erestor's forehead as well, and how he looked even another shade paler than usual. "You're in pain."

"Nothing to worry about, just …" Understanding what she was trying to tell him, he paused. He stared down in disbelief at the wound, the blood, and slowly nodded. "Is it unnatural to be happy about that?"

Tarisilya couldn't help but laugh and spontaneously throw her arms around his neck. Something had changed that she had been worried about ever since meeting Erestor for the first time. Knowing that she was responsible for that, that she could help him, was better than any compliment he could pay her.

After all the fear a few minutes ago, being held by someone was soothing. Enjoying the moment, she also allowed Erestor to gingerly caress her neck. Maybe she was overthinking things too often. Why fight something that felt so good? Someone who treated her with more respect than most people ever had? Maybe it was excitement about the first battle that she had ever been part of, making her head spin like that. At this moment, nothing counted, not the metallic smell of blood tainting the air, not the threat of huge teeth and not the past.

The sensation of tender lips tentatively grazing her ear, her temple, her cheek, had her sigh. She felt like having strings on her when she took her head off Erestor's shoulder, her eyes seeking his piercing black ones to let him know that it was alright. That this time, he wasn't doing anything wrong.

His lips were only an inch away from hers when he suddenly started back and jerked his head around, frowning, irritated. "Not now."

That was when Tarisilya as well heard someone running up the hill and rolled her eyes in frustration. Just when she had finally made up her mind …

Sighing, she tried to untangle herself from Erestor but was stopped short by her injury again, therefore the person interfering was presented with quite the obvious scene. "Milord?" Blindsided, Tarisilya tried to stand up but just couldn't get her leg under her and stumbled right back into Erestor's arms.

"Looks like I'm not needed here." Shaking his head, Lord Elrond watched the odd couple, straightening his tunic and the simple sword holster on his belt. Seconds after the sprint he was already back to being a perfect vision of order and composure.

"The twins and your brother are back. When we went to meet them, we saw the wolves out here. But you two seem to have handled the situation quite well."

"The help of a healer is always highly appreciated." Erestor was faster than her, processing the surprise about the news. He just lifted Tarisilya in his arms, ignoring her quiet protest, and sat her down on her horse as carefully as possible. "Was it the same pack that attacked the hobbits?"

"Just a part of it, for all we know. They breed quickly." Elrond seemed to share his advisor's ideas. After binding the wolf's mouth shut with his belt, he threw the lifeless body over his shoulder before following them.

"What about Tegiend?" Tarisilya had contained herself as long as possible. The Lord surely would have told her immediately if there had been losses. But she wanted to know at least, what to expect in the city. Suddenly all of the worry was back that Erestor had actually made it to distract her from. Had she seriously been busy having fun here while her brother was possibly in mortal danger? What had she been thinking?

"A few of the halflings were hurt too badly to lead them to Imladris through the wolf-infested area. The twins couldn't take care of them and counter constant attacks at the same time. Especially since they avoid taking the life of any being at all cost. They had to wait for the wolves to move on. For the next few weeks, they're welcome to reconsider their recklessness in a sickbed. Just like your brother. They'll all heal quickly, be at ease," Elrond finally answered Tarisilya's most pressing question.

"In the meantime, we'll organize hunting parties." He turned back to Erestor. "We need to decimate the wolves' numbers before they overrun the whole area."

The Lord didn't even seem to notice which mare Tarisilya was riding. Remarkable, considering how worried he had been about the animal. Probably it was just like she had thought: He had only wanted to test her, and in a few days at the latest, he would throw Tegiend and her out, sending his best regards to their father.

"I'm fine to ride, thank you." She took the rope from Erestor's hand and spurred the mare to move faster, though her leg protested fiercely against the pressure.

"Ilya, wait …" Only now her suitor seemed to remember that she existed. "You shouldn't …"

"My brother needs me. Forgive me for crisis talks being the last thing on my mind right now. You know where to find me." Feeling that Lord Elrond kept a critical eye on her, she started galloping.

Limping into the halls of healing, Tarisilya nearly stumbled over a kid that only on second sight, she identified as a hobbit, thanks to its big, slightly hairy feet. An unpicturesque curse almost escaped her lips. Just in time, she remembered that this clueless being wasn't responsible for either her pain or her worries about Tegiend.

"What are you doing here?" She bent down to the boy, trying her best to keep pressure off her leg so she wouldn't collapse. "Where are your parents?"

"In there." The hobbit pointed at one of the sickrooms. "They don't let me go inside." He burst into tears immediately, clutching a little stuffed bear to his chest. "I want my Mama!"

Tarisilya looked at the door in question where one of the healers promptly appeared, warningly shaking her head. So the casualties were even worse than Lord Elrond had said.

"Come with me, little one. We'll wait somewhere else, alright? It's so uncomfortable here. What's your name?"

"Cubbi Took." Sobbing, the boy grabbed her hand. "Can we go see Mama?"

"Later. She needs a little rest. I was told that too much excitement isn't good for a hobbit." A strained smile on her lips, Tarisilya stroked the boy's brunette curls.

"But we are Tooks, we like excitement," Cubbi declared proudly. "Mama always says that it's boring, being at home all the time. We wanted to collect mushrooms, for the big celebration! And then she was gone." He was already crying again. "Where is Mama? I want to see her!"

"I'll go look after her soon, I promise." Tarisilya gently pulled him along. "I'm sure you're hungry, aren't you?"

"How did you know?" The little one was so surprised that he stopped sobbing.

"Hobbits are always hungry."

Tarisilya chuckled softly but quickly turned serious when she caught sight of a person who was just showing up at the perfect moment. "Arwen! Where is Tegiend?"

"At the end of the hall. He has to lie on his back for a few days. The twins are doing a little better, fortunately. They're sitting by some other patients' sides. That's the one thing they can do right now, without blacking out. And who is this?"

Smiling, Arwen knelt down next to the hobbit who stared at her blatantly, with his mouth agape.

Cubbi tugged on Tarisilya's dress to get her to bend down to him again. "Who is that? She's so beautiful!" he whispered, loud enough for probably every elf from here to the other side of the valley to hear.

The elves fleetingly grinned at each other. Few things could brighten up a distressed mind as quickly as the short-lived, cheerful spirit of a halfling.

"My name is Arwen. My brothers found you in the woods. I'll take you to the others, what do you think? They're already having Afternoon Tea."

"Yes!" His face beaming, Cubbi took her hand and offered her his bear with the other. "Will you marry me?"

Tarisilya admired how Arwen kept herself from letting out a laugh that would surely have hurt the little one, given his deadpan tone. "Why don't we talk about it while we eat?"

"We have a big house in the Shire! You would love it there!" Chattering incessantly, his eyes shining, the little one followed her without so much as looking at Tarisilya anymore.

At least she didn't have to force a smile now anymore, but could hurry to the room where she suspected her brother to be.

She still heard Arwen's amused comment though. "By the way, you're pretty good at handling kids, Ilya."

Tarisilya frantically tried to suppress how the remark produced an image of an elfling with black hair and green brown eyes in her mind, and fled as quickly as her leg allowed.

"You're crushing me, Ilya." Tegiend softly pushed Tarisilya away when she was hugging him tightly enough to unintentionally hurt him. "Come on, stop crying, everything is fine."

"It is not!" she protested, glaring at all the bandages adorning his body. "Why can't you just take care of yourself? Elladan and Elrohir didn't come back looking like that!"

"You think?" Tegiend grinned mischievously. It was clear to see that the good relationship he had always had with the twins, had only grown deeper this summer. "They just have a special status because they've been working here for so long. If the Lord didn't need them to treat the patients, he'd have them confined to bed as well. You don't really think he can keep me here for long, do you? Lord Glorfindel promised to train me. As soon as no one's looking, I'm out of here."

"Don't you dare!" Tarisilya gave him a pat on his bandaged shoulder, soft but nonrandom, and finally let go of him then, swallowing the last of her tears.

"I'm proud of you, by the way." Sometimes her brother needed to hear that, and not from Haldir or their father. After all, it always made her happy as well when he praised her for something that was important to her. Being a twin, you were so deeply connected by nature that even after centuries, the other still was your most important attachment figure, no matter how many other beings came into your life.

"And I on you. I actually expected you to follow me." Gently caressing her flushed cheek, Tegiend looked at the stains on her formerly white dress, shaking his head. "I see you had enough entertainment here. That's good to know. I don't want you worry so much whenever I have to keep you waiting."

Tarisilya rather kept it to herself that she would always do that, that this wish she just couldn't grant him. Such discussions were bad for a patient who needed rest.

She usually would have tried to accelerate the healing herself, but she felt exhausted, had her own wound to tend to and wanted to leave this long day behind. Tomorrow, she would be there for Tegiend. Maybe then, a long healing session would even help finding back her ease of mind.

Her way automatically brought Tarisilya to the palace paddocks. Lately, she somehow always ended up being with horses when she wanted to be alone.

It didn't surprise her much to find Lord Elrond visiting the mare she had saved. Belated, he probably wanted to personally make sure that she was alright.

Tarisilya had no interest in this confrontation and already turned away when he asked her to join him.

"Have you seen a healer?" Frowning, Elrond stared at Tarisilya's leg that she kept on dragging behind her at each step.

To simplify matters, she nodded. She _was_ a healer. Once back in her room, she could take care of herself, and especially brew a tea to help with that terrible pain.

"What can I do for you, milord?"

"You did more than enough, and resisting the darkness of your magic effortlessly, just like I hoped." Elrond seemed just as unbelieving as Erestor that his favorite mare stood next to him alive and well, that she immediately trotted to Tarisilya when she came closer. "You are a very powerful healer, child of the moon. I admit, I did underestimate you."

"That seems to be typical for most elves." Wherever that sudden courage to forget all conventions came from, it felt pretty good. So she had been right - this had been nothing but a test. "You already refused to take my father seriously, because he's different to what you know. And I'm a thorn in your side as well. Too much stubbornness, too many questions, too many objections, right? Is this whole no-killing-rule anything but an excuse? You, one of the greatest healers of our time, are you pretending, you never killed someone in your life? Or your sons who help leading your defenses? I'm a little too old for fairy tales. But don't you worry, I won't be bothering you and your people with my improper ambitions any longer."

Tarisilya said good-bye to the mare with a short kiss to her nose. It wasn't her fault that she had been abused for this little game. Then she turned away from an obviously stunned Elrond. She finally needed to get to guesthouse before her leg would stop cooperating.

If she was lucky, Erestor would be waiting for her there. Then she could tell him that she wanted to leave in the morning, at the latest. Maybe he would come with her. After all, they were indeed quite a good match, both much too defiant to be respected in the society of noble elves …

Someone approached her, shouting something at her, but all that sun today apparently hadn't been good for her. She could neither make out the face nor hear what the person was trying to tell her. It didn't matter. It couldn't be important. Not more than her decision to never just put up with anything in her life anymore, but to go her own way.

Keep on walking … Look straight ahead …

Something got in her way, probably a stone that she painfully bumped her foot on. Who in the world had come up with the idea that in Imladris, one should always be barefoot? Tarisilya tried to grip the paddock fence when the ground suddenly came to meet her, at an alarming speed, but there was no fence. There was nothing but pain, and heat spreading in her body, and then suddenly nothing.

This was what they called irony. There you had finally found a moment when neither Lord Elrond nor his kids were present in the halls of healing, in spite of the intense recent activity there. With an expression of absolute disgust, you even had put on some simple bright robe to not attract attention and taken the back door. Then you had made your way to your destination on several detours, to avoid answering annoying questions …

And then you were greeted by the brother of the patient you wanted to see, with a look that would have made lesser elves turn back immediately. While Erestor ó Imladris wasn't that easily intimidated, he still didn't feel comfortable, sitting down across from Tegiend. "How is she?"

"Finally asleep. So I would be very grateful if you kept your voice down," Tegiend replied coolly.

"Aren't you needed in the library today?"

In other words: _Why didn't you come sooner?_

Erestor sighed soundlessly. "Lord Elrond and me initiated further protection measures for the valley, to make sure, something like this can't happen again."

He reached for Tarisilya's Hand but paused when another piercing glare was aimed at him. Fine, drawing the battle lines first then.

"Is the Lord still angry with Ilya?"

_I hope you spoke for her since you claim to care for her so much._

Vandrin should better teach his kids a few things about subtlety.

"Would he have stayed by her side for days if he was taking her reproaches seriously? Ilya was running a high fever, she couldn't think clear. He knows that. What about this? Will she be alright?" Impatiently, Erestor nodded at Tarisilya's thickly bandaged leg.

"Lord Elrond's herbs helped a great deal. She will heal. There will probably be some permanent scars though." In spite of these mostly good news, Tegiend didn't sound overly friendly.

"I wonder what distracted her so much that she failed to realize how badly the wound was infected."

_How can you hope to take care of an elf if you don't even notice when her life is in danger?_

"I am not a healer, Vandrinion." Erestor started to lose patience. With no one else, he'd still try to play nice at this point of a conversation. "She didn't let it show how bad it was. And I don't know her well enough yet to interpret her behavior right."

"At least you are aware of that." Now it was Tegiend speaking too loudly; he only realized when Tarisilya startled in her sleep.

He quickly got up and signaled Erestor to follow him to the balcony. "Let's talk."

"About what?" Erestor only reluctantly joined the other elf. He kept his hands tightly folded behind his back, or he would probably have to get rough, confronted with so much openly flaunted patriarchy. "As far as I know, Ilya is old enough to make her own decisions."

"And you are certain that she already made hers about you?" Tegiend turned to him with his arms crossed, mildly amused. "You have no idea whom you are trying to challenge, do you?"

"That is neither of interest to me nor any of my business." Erestor bravely resisted the urge to ask. Sure, he had his suspicions, but Tarisilya would tell him when she was ready. Her sense of justice and her wish to keep her privacy, that at least he already knew quite well. Meddling with her past would have done more damage than good. Not now, when it wouldn't take much more to …

There were some things that shouldn't even be said in your head if you didn't want to experience a rude awakening.

"Correct." Tegiend nodded slowly, visibly impressed by his restraint. "And it should make me happy, if Ilya can finally free herself from this nightmare that she's been trapped in for hundreds of years now. Just make sure that I won't have to watch her ever being carried into a sickroom in your presence again, or I will have to reconsider."

_If you don't take care of her, I will kill you and make it look like an accident._

It was difficult not to laugh, but somehow, Erestor managed to retire without a single stir on his face. Tarisilya and him would talk once she wasn't watched by sentry dogs anymore.

_This time, it was different. This time, the woods welcomed her with bright colors, a recovering animal life and flora, and with the feeling of coming home after a long quest. Not a trace of withered trees, oversized spiders or other monsters that in the last centuries had made this area such a horrible place. Though Tarisilya had never been here, she felt like she had seen this all before, maybe in another dream. Or in the thoughts of someone she had used to know._

_When she heard hoofbeats behind her, she was certain, it had to be the guards. The soldiers that the elves in Lórien on the quiet were always talking about, who attacked everyone with their swords who dared to cross the borders. If you were lucky, they brought you to their King – in the worst case, they wanted to have some fun with their prisoners before._

_It wasn't a soldier though. It was Legolas. He wasn't smiling when he stopped his horse right next to her. Why wasn't he smiling?_

_"It's alright, moon-queen. Go home. That home isn't here, it will never be."_

_"No!" Ice-cold dismay took hold of her when she realized what he was trying to tell her. "I want to be with you!" She tried to reach for him but as it happened in dreams, her hand went right through his._

_Just a moment later, he had brought his horse out of range. He didn't want her to touch him. "There is too much between us, Ilya. And things are changing. It's ever growing worse."_

_Tarisilya felt colder than ever before. She was asleep, she knew that ever since she had entered these woods. But she couldn't wake up, no matter how often she closed her eyes and wished herself away. The certainty should reassure her. Soon it would be over, and she would probably see Tegiend's worried face above her …_

_But for now,_ he _was here. And he wanted to send her away._

_"You promised me." She sounded like a sulky elfling. Somehow, this highly praised promise lost more of its meaning every day. "Why don't you want me anymore?"_

_"It's not me who stopped wanting this, moon-ruler." He rode off without looking at her again. Neither her tears nor her desperate pleas could make him turn back._

When Tarisilya woke up, she was still crying. She cried herself hoarse, and not even Tegiend's comforting hug could make her stop.


	17. Chapter 17

After the last argument, Erestor had not expected Glorfindel back in his library anytime soon. His blood pressure was raised all the more when he heard the resolute steps of Lord Elrond's general outside, before he had recovered from that visit in the houses of healing. Drawing his shoulders up, he stuck his nose deep into the book on his knees, demonstratively crossing his legs with his feet on his desk. But he never left Glorfindel out of his sight.

"Am I interrupting something?" Glorfindel at least didn't seem in a mood to fight, acting agreeable for a change.

Instead of an answer, Erestor held up his reading material and concentrated on the current page again.

"Seldom diseases of wild animals? You try too hard." Without even asking, Glorfindel helped himself to the hillside herb tea still brewing in the pot, and sat down on the side of the desk. At least he made sure this time that nothing important was stacked there. "The Lord will find out what ails the wolves."

"Because he's been doing this kind of work longer than me, you mean? In all his millennia of healing, he never witnessed a sickness that eats up a body and mind so badly without killing. It also happens to poison the organism so badly that one bite, in a minimum of time can be deadly to Hobbits, Men and even Elves, in case that little detail escaped you."

Irritated, Erestor closed the book. "If you have no interest in preventing an epidemic that threatens all of the west, at least stop bothering me."

Glorfindel absently rubbed a small cut on his forehead that the latest adventure had left. Erestor had seldom seen him so tired. Maybe he should stop terrorizing his soldiers in the worst of heat.

"I heard the lie often enough that you do not need anybody. Let us pretend for a moment, that is true. Can you protect _her_? From yourself? You never opened your heart to anyone, so I cannot tell. Or will you give her a bow to shoot your ghosts again, and immerse yourself in battle to feel that you are still alive?"

It took all of Erestor's self-control to let every of these venomous sentences bounce off him. His hands gripped the book so tightly that they were leaving marks. All had asked Glorfindel back then was helping him with his rusted fighting abilities. If he would have suspected the kind of entitlements his friend would derive from that, he'd have asked somebody else.

"There won't be many chances for that. You're the warrior here, and I'm the advisor, remember? Besides, there's seldom wolf attacks in my library."

"The world is bigger than your library." Glorfindel elegantly, smoothly jumped from the desk, moving out of reach before Erestor could follow the temptation of kicking a quite sensitive body site. "If you fathomed that, you would not face an abyss now. Maybe it takes this fall for you to wake up."

"Go train your soldiers. As a poet you fail miserably, as well as an advisor. You will forgive that I'm not willing to hear comments about my private life from someone who can't stand being in the same room as his family unless drunk or in armor." That was mean, admittedly, but also necessary and most of all, effective. Glorfindel had seldom ran from a conversation so quickly. Erestor only looked up again when the door closed behind him. Blood from tiny fingernail wounds dripped from his palm, marring the draft for another song for Tarisilya of all things.

Fortunately, he had long stopped believing in bad omens.

Only a few days had passed since Tarisilya had last entered the library at night. Yet in this short time, everything seemed to have changed. The silence, only broken by very few natural noises of life, didn't scare her anymore; it was a pleasant change after the turmoil in the halls of healing.

This time, she didn't come because the guesthouse was too empty, but because on the contrary, Tegiend would be waiting there to take her right back to the healers although she had long recovered.

And this time, she knew immediately that Erestor was present.

Maybe he had even been waiting for her, considering how fast he got up from his sofa before she had even really entered. "What are you doing here?" He tried in vain to look strict.

What indeed? She hadn't thought about that much. She was being drawn to him, that was all.

Why not stick to the truth? "I've been having some bad dreams, and I don't want to be alone if it happens again."

"Don't you have your brother for that kind of assistance?" He stopped a few feet from her, probably waiting for her to come to him. In spite of the darkness, she knew he was smiling, she heard it, felt it. If she wanted to believe the whispers of other Imladris elves, he hadn't been smiling so much in millennia.

Her legs moved automatically, as fast as her still healing injury allowed, bringing her closer to the elf whom she had come to appreciate so much in the last weeks. Whom she now wanted by her side to chase away those unsettling dreams.

"There's some things, a brother isn't any good for." Though she could hardly see Erestor, she found his hand immediately and only let go of it after he'd led her to the sofa and taken her in his arms. The furniture was too narrow to lay down together, and Tarisilya wasn't sure she wanted that anyway. Relieved that Erestor didn't try to make her, only wrapping his arms around her legs when she rested them on his, she buried her head no his shoulder. The missing light was soothing, for the first time in half an eternity, because now she wasn't alone anymore. She was with someone who would take care of her if the night offered less beautiful and glistening wonders than the moon in the sky.

"Did you mean that? You would come to Lórien with me?"

"Why not? At least for a while, other people can handle things here. And the way isn't _that_ far. I can travel, whenever the Lord really needs me." Erestor's hand was soon busy with tenderly caressing her neck, which was sending those comfortable shivers down her back again. His head was close enough to hers to feel his breath against her ear which had the same effect, only much stronger.

_Why not?_

So this was how easy things were when you didn't have to fight prejudice against other elven realms or stubborn, overly worried fathers.

_You always said that is your strength._

Confused, Tarisilya opened her eyes, staring down at the greyish contours of their bodies so closely huddled up to each other. Where did that sentence in her head come from? From Tegiend? Was the memory of Tegiend of all people trying to remind her of something that she wanted to think about the least right now? Quickly, she pushed it away. She had had enough doubts.

Suppression became far easier when suddenly slender fingers – artist fingers – were stroking her cheek. Raising her head, she let her lips tentatively trace the sharp line of Erestor's chin, not ready to let some inner voice ruin this moment.

Her heart was beating so loudly in her chest that she nearly missed his question, if she was being sure this time.

"I don't want to hurt you again. Are you here now? Are you really with me, Ilya?"

Her Yes, offended sounding because he actually still had to ask, never made it past her lips.

_Are you really with me?_

Was she?

Why did he have to ask so badly?

No one knew better than a child of the moon, how easy it was to hide in the dark. Was it only possible for her to be so close to someone because deep in her heart, she was pretending him to be somebody else? Somebody whom she maybe could never have by her side? She didn't think so but … If there was only the smallest possibility, she was about to make a very big mistake.

Before her confused emotions could make her do something, she would regret later, she quickly got up. "I'm sorry. I just don't know."

"Ilya …" Though he had caused that pullback himself, it was easy to hear that Erestor slowly but certainly started to lose patience.

She had gone way too far. Of course he was hurt. She would be too if she was in his place. "Erestor …"

He didn't let her speak. Getting up to stand right in front of her, he grabbed her wrist. "No, please, listen to me for a moment. I told you I would be fighting for you, but how am I supposed to fight someone who isn't even around? You are only giving me whatever that other elf left. That's not enough for me. I want to make the best out of you."

Roughly, rude nearly, she broke loose whereas her injured leg protested; she nearly stumbled. The pain finally brought back the reality of a stuffy, cold room, so large that it was easy enough to get lost when you were in the dark. By all stars, what had gotten into her? What had nearly made her kiss him, on her own accord, much too early? "Don't push me, that doesn't make it better."

"Maybe that's what you need to finally unchain your heart." He had never spoken to her like that.

It hurt especially that he was now talking just as disparagingly as Tegiend about her first love, that she had always kept like a luxurious treasure in her soul. Throwing mud at it, tearing it to shreds as if Tarisilya had done something wrong.

And why? Because she wasn't ready to promise him eternity after a few meetings? Anger flared up in her soul. "I don't belong to you! I do not always function the way you want me to! Go look up the word sensitivity in one of your books." As quickly as her battered condition allowed, she hurried to the door.

She had only just left the library behind when a loud noise from inside had her startle violently. She suddenly had a pretty good idea where those bruises on Erestor's body came from. From the sound of it, he had just knocked a whole shelf over.

In Lórien, usually there was always someone making use of the night to dwell in lonely places. Taking a walk in Imladris at this time of the day, Tarisilya had seldom met people so far. Therefore, she had the valid hope that after the dispute in the library, she would be able to retire somewhere, and think about what had gone so wrong.

How much she had neglected to seek out her oldest and most reliable advisor in the last years, she only realized when she sank down into the grass of the paddock near the palace, enjoying the shine of the full moon with her eyes closed. Sighing, she laid back to stare at the unclouded sky. Why couldn't things be as easy as when she had first entered the library? Innocent levity, the joy of something new and mysterious taking hold of her …

Instead, she was right back to the start, unable to get an elf out of her head, she had wanted to forget about. What had she been doing other than frantically searching for downsides to this relationship, just to avoid the pain of parting? Than suppressing the memories of the beautiful moments? The earnest nearness existing between Legolas and her from the start? Or being attracted to someone so badly that you forgot everything standing between him and you? How her heart had been racing every time, he had just touched her hand to say good-bye? How it was racing whenever she called his mere image to her mind?

Especially his knowing eyes, how he had been able to read in her so easily. Still, Legolas had never acted like felt superior to her, or tried to influence her with the millennia of life experience he had on her, unlike Erestor sometimes seemed to …

Frustrated, she turned onto her stomach and pressed her face into the cool grass, deeply inhaling the pleasant heavy scent of something as untouchable as nature, trying to pretend that the moisture on her cheeks was condensation water.

A horse's nose gently nudged her. Her current favorite patient was worrying about her.

With a deep sigh, Tarisilya sat up, absently caressing the animal's forehead. While staying here all night was tempting, that would only equal more running.

If she could see it right from a distance, the only person who could tell her something to help with her conflict, was lingering in the palace dooryard.

"I expected you sooner." Glorfindel greeted Tarisilya with a reserved but at least friendly smile. "Sit."

Defiance and anger filled her immediately. So she had suspected right; Glorfindel had known what was happening between Erestor and her from the start. Why hadn't he said anything then? He'd had no problem, spending time with Tegiend for his stupid training!

She crossed her arms without a word, sulkily thrusting her jaw forward. If the other elf had indeed been waiting for her, he surely had something to tell her, right?

Quiet laughter brightened the night, so melodic, appealing and contagious that she just had to join. While Tarisilya wasn't into hero worship as much as Tegiend, it really was true what people said about Glorfindel. While he was just as experienced as Erestor, unlike the librarian, he managed to keep a lightness and cheerfulness that Tarisilya hadn't exactly expected from someone who had been dead before.

Soon enough though, he turned serious. "The recent trouble in Imladris kept me from interfering with something out of my domain and reach. Only Erestor can answer your questions anyway. And the most important answer you find in your heart."

Just what she wanted to hear, great. Crossing her legs, Tarisilya started to tug on her seam that was frayed from that treatment already. Her father would probably never let her visit Imladris again, once he realized how much this stay had compromised her arduously acquired attitude. "As an elfling, people told me there is no greater bliss in an elf's life but having a family. How can something as wonderful as love hurt then?"

"This riddle still occupies the Valar." Tarisilya was surprised to suddenly hear deep sadness in Glorfindel's voice. Had she touched a sore spot? Unless the books were wrong, Glorfindel had never had a family. Maybe she was about to find out why.

"I didn't mean to …" Anxiously, she bit her lip. On the one hand, she would love to hear his thoughts. Who could tell her more about fate and love than someone who probably knew one or two Valar in person? But her curiosity once more hurting someone was definitely too high a price.

"You did not," he quickly calmed her. "A full moon brings out suppressed memories. We share that. There is a partner for every elf. But love is not always mutual. Sometimes, it turns out to be a mistake. It even confuses the Valar. Some of them say, it is due to the shadow we were born under. I think love has a will often not recognized. At the end of pain though, there is always the right way."

"I wish I was there already." The explanations changed nothing about Tarisilya's confusion. "Tegiend stopped saying it, for my sake, but I know exactly what he's thinking. He doesn't believe that someone who causes me so much pain can ever make me happy."

"Your brother is not the one supposed to marry that elf," Glorfindel returned, surprisingly sharp. "This decision is yours. I never doubted my feelings, yet I was forced to let go. I wonder every day, if I was alone, had I chosen another path. Now it is too late."

When Tarisilya could bring herself to look up from her fidgeting hands, she realized that Glorfindel was staring into the distance, at a sideway of the garden. For a moment, she thought to see a shape there, not more than a shadow that was gone when she looked again. Probably just an illusion. Sometimes moonlight wrapped things in a veil instead of making them clearer.

When she turned her head back, Glorfindel's eyes were on her again, the short melancholy was gone. Whatever direction she had guided his thoughts in for a few seconds, he was back to the present.

"Waiting for a while makes a heart stronger. Waiting forever drowns it in darkness."

"I see." And for the first time since arriving in Imladris, maybe for the first time since the beginning of this millennium when this whole mess had started, Tarisilya really felt like understing something. "I know now what to do."

Glorfindel already seemed to suspect what she meant, and he didn't sound surprised. "Remember that no elf chooses whom to fall in love with."

Now it was her turn to smile sympathetically. At that dinner, had she really thought that Glorfindel was being hostile to her? She might have spared herself a lot, talking to him immediately instead of running away like a scared animal. Now all that was left was to learn from these mistakes and never make them again. "You care for him very much, don't you?"

"He blocks it out, but I always did."

So much frustration and subtle anger suddenly filled the air that Tarisilya quickly got up. _That_ definitely was none of her business. Glorfindel would have to talk to Erestor himself, once she was gone … which would be soon. "I'll try to not hurt him."

Glorfindel looked at her sadly from below and shook his head, with exactly the unbearably lecturing expression that he'd spared her so far.

"I know. I can't change it now. Thank you for your time." She quickly curtsied and then left to get her things.

The discussion with Tegiend was so ridiculously predictable that Tarisilya could have written it down beforehand and read it out loud. When she finally made him understand that for personal reasons, she indeed wanted to return to Lórien, he set his mind on escorting her, of course. By the time she could convince him that one of the Imladris guards would surely take care of her just as well, she was finished packing.

Helping him ease his bad conscience about wanting to spend the rest of the holidays with his friends here instead of going home already, and convincing him that in no way, she was angry about that, took until the sun was rising.

To avoid further debates, she let him carry her bags outside then, though she was perfectly able to do that herself. Brothers. A punishment from the Valar, seriously.

Before Tegiend could start over, she pressed a big kiss to his cheek and used her position as his healer to send him back to bed, to continue his recovery. "I'll write to you." By force of habit alone, she tugged the collar of his bright green robe into shape. Probably another gift of the house of Elrond. He seemed to start to get used to wearing these things. "This looks good on you, by the way. Say hello to the twins and Arwen for me, please."

"I'm sorry that it has to end like that, Ilya." Tegiend unfortunately wasn't half as ignorant as she'd hoped. "I've wished you happiness so badly."

"I _am_ happy. Please try to finally understand that." She hugged him tightly. "I'll see you in autumn."

He didn't look convinced, he probably would never be, but at least he didn't try to talk her out of something anymore. That was progress.

When Tarisilya led her horse to the main road, she was relieved to see Lord Elrond come towards her, understandably confused that she left his stables with bag and baggage. It would have felt awkward, asking for him in the palace. She explained again, in fewer words this time, that an urgent matter was calling her home, that she didn't want to burden Tegiend with that though.

As expected, the Lord immediately sent for a guard to accompany Tarisilya.

She sighed another breath of relief. Considering the current dangers in the area around Imladris, she wouldn't want to go on that ride alone.

The encounter also offered her a chance to do something that she had not found the courage for so far. "Please forgive what I said to you after the wolf attack, milord. It is not my place to criticize you. You're always treating my brother and me with so much kindness … I don't know what I was thinking."

"Is that why you are running away?" That Elrond didn't accept her apology right away but regarded her with one of his famous glares, revealed that she had indeed hurt him.

"You don't need to, not because of me. There is no conflict between your father and me. Should he ever find his way to Imladris again, he would be as welcome as you two. That we see some things differently doesn't mean, we have opposing views about the life of elves on principal. Or, for that matter, about the distribution of roles and its reasons. He won't tell you anything different than what I said, child of the moon. If you feel safer in times of crisis, go and learn how to defend yourself. I would never keep anyone from that, not even my own daughter, and I am certain, Vandrin agrees. To answer your question though: In all of my millennia, there were two times when I have ended a life. Both times, I have been in a war. Ever since then, my ability to soothe troubled minds is heavily limited. And all of my sons' battle training as well, focuses on learning how to avoid using a weapon for a deadly strike. As of yet they succeeded. Someday you will understand why the protection of healing abilities is more important than desperately trying to prove your value in fights and danger."

"Maybe, milord." Tarisilya was not ready to clarify the misunderstanding. The Lord thinking that this was her reason to leave, was fine with her. That other thing was none of his business anyway.

"I hope, the problems in your valley will soon be solved." She meant it, with all of her heart. This was not a final farewell. Tarisilya did plan to come back here, once she could look back on what had happened with some distance. She would probably follow Arwen's example from now on though, and let Tegiend bring her all her books from the library.

"So hope we all." Elrond quickly put a hand on her shoulder. "Your escort will meet you at the gate."

"Thank you, milord. Please say hello to your wife for me, and tell your daughter that I'm sorry. Tell her, I will be back soon."

That had been easier than expected. Maybe in his solitude down there, Erestor had not learned about her plan yet … It would save them both some trouble. And until she reached her home, Tarisilya's thoughts would be back to some order. Then she could write to him …

The hope lasted exactly until she reached the gate. Unfortunately, that was no soldier sitting on the waist-high wall. Erestor's face didn't only seem pale but snow-white this morning. His messy hair and the ill-fitting robe looked like he'd just crawled from his sofa. He stared right at Tarisilya until she stopped next to him. "Are you dead set on proving that you're not half as mature as I thought?"

"This is better for both of us." She would love nothing better than to just stay on her horse. Why were there no books on how to do this as quickly as possible?

She all but crept closer, pressed to the wall as if she could somehow vanish inside. "We were caught in a dream. My woke reality is long promised."

"Is that so?" Tarisilya didn't have the strength to back away when Erestor came to stand right before her. "Then tell me why I can see the feelings you have for me in your eyes, even now."

The amount of anger and the hint of despair she was confronted with, made Tarisilya speechless. No matter what she said, it would only make things worse. And it was her fault alone.

Was it though? Hadn't she warned Erestor? He was a lot older than her. If one of them should have too rational to start this whole thing, it was him.

"I was fascinated for a while. And I appreciate that you're being my friend without trying to make me something I am not. Under different stars, that would suffice to bind us in love, but I realized now that I belong with someone else."

"You don't belong with him, you belong _to_ him! The one thing you hate the most!" Erestor's voice was a hateful hiss, hate on someone he didn't even know. A dangerous, much too big feeling that he didn't have an outlet for. Just like last night when his rage had turned against a shelf that had surely not only left bruises and ugly scrapes on his jaw and neck.

"This will break you, Ilya. He doesn't even care about you."

"Someday he will."

Erestor badmouthing someone who wasn't here to defend himself, was the necessary impulse to escape his nearness. Insistently, Tarisilya pushed Erestor away from her. "Stop that, please. Let us not behave like elflings."

"Suddenly you don't want to?" Not a hint of gentleness, humor, self-irony left in his tone. It was like Erestor had worn a mask the whole time. Bewildered, he shook his head. "So this is what I made a complete fool of myself for?"

"This is how you see it then.” Tarisilya felt like someone had shoved her into the Celebrant in the middle of winter.

Erestor had really acted like he was somebody else the whole time. And surely, he thought that alright. She didn't doubt his feelings. But someone pretending for her – that would never have worked out.

Legolas had never feigned anything. How blind had Tarisilya really been? "You should be happy then to be rid of that burden, shouldn't you?"

Erestor seemed to notice his mistake and tried to stop wreaking his anger upon her, that he felt for someone else. "That's not what I meant."

Yesterday Tarisilya had learned to see through that facade of understanding and friendliness though. "But you did. You're trying to be something you are not. I don't want that. And I don't want to be untrue to myself either. When we were together, I could not shut off my feelings for an elf who only exists in my head right now, for even a second. That alone should have told me, I'm connected to him way too deeply to try and give myself over to somebody else. Please, Erestor, stop it. We're only hurting each other."

Now she had gotten through to him. Now he understood, there were no words that would make a difference. Again, he sank onto that wall. This time, because the energy that Tarisilya had lent him in the last weeks, left him. "One day, I will have to pick you up from the ground, Ilya."

"Possibly." That too was a possibility she had to be prepared for. Not even Lady Galadriel probably could say what the future held for her. But no matter what happened, at least she wouldn't have to blame herself for not doing everything to find happiness. "Then at least I had the right to choose that you're trying to take from me."

That hit him deeply. Furious, he gasped for air. "Did I ever try to keep you from anything?"

"You're doing it now, questioning the only decision I ever made for myself in my life, that no one will ever change." The longer they were fighting, the more resolute Tarisilya felt. Actually, she should thank Erestor. Without this conversation, she would have kept on doubting if she was doing the right thing.

Now she knew for certain. She had deluded herself with the active help from a certain librarian. It almost felt like waking up from one of the many nightmares she'd lately had.

Finally, an armor-clad rider approached her with some baggage. Relieved, Tarisilya mounted her horse again.

She had an unfriendly remark on her lips when Erestor joined her and grabbed the reins, but then she felt the cold smoothness of metal on her skin. "What are you doing?" Confused, she stared at his family ring that he tried to give her.

"I want you to wear this, to know that I'll be waiting for you. Until you can free yourself from the curse of that other elf." Either Erestor really didn't realize how much it hurt Tarisilya that he stirred up hatred against his rival or he didn't care. Probably both.

"No." She gave back the ring, firmly squeezing his hand for a last time. "You actually think I could do that? Choose an eternity of waiting and suffering and then condemn someone else to go through the same? I believe in him, that's all you need to know. Don't wait for something that will never happen."

"Didn't we discover together that the future is always in motion?" Terrifying emptiness and even more distance than in the very beginning was the last that Tarisilya saw on Erestor's face before he left her alone. Her well-meaning plea had done nothing. He couldn't get over being rejected. Maybe he never would. Erestor had perfected the art of waiting that Tarisilya found so difficult.

As much as she wanted to help him, she couldn't. He would have to live with this, and so would she.

"Thank you for your help." She greeted the soldier with a short bow, slightly confused that he didn't even take off his dark hood for an introduction, so she could have seen his face.

"Lord Glorfindel personally asked me to protect you on your way home." The voice though, she found to be very appealing and likeable, warm and melodic just like Glorfindel's. "Let's get started, so we can leave the wolf area behind as quickly as possible."

Tarisilya soon noticed that the elf kept on watching her from the side; he surely had many curious questions. Probably he would ask at the latest when they finished the first stretch of galloping. After the gloomiest departure from Imladris she had ever experienced, she wasn't in any mood for that.

"Don't be mad please." She spoke up before the horses had even really stopped for their first break. "I don't feel like telling much of a story right now. Forgive me if this ride will proceed in silence."

"Don't worry. I'm not exactly known as the most talkative soldier in Lord Elrond's troops." The elf gifted her with a captivating smile from under his hood and motioned her to dismount. "Get some rest. I'll keep an eye on the area."

"Thank you ..." The other elf was exceptionally polite and considerate, and she? About high time to remember things like manners and decency. "I'm thoughtless. What is your name?"

"Thoughtless is the one who doesn't introduce himself." He gave a short bow. "Forgive me, milady. The shadow over Imladris ruffles even accomplished fighters with millennia of serenity. I am Thondrar."

"Tarisilya Vandriniel." She returned the gesture, not half as fleeting and sloppy as with Lord Elrond earlier. "Let's start over, what do you say?"

"On some days, that is the only way to not let the burden of eternity crush you, milady." That short guidance, revealing that the elf was perfectly informed about the reason for her farewell, except for a few short arrangements and instructions was the last thing she would hear from him on their journey.

Their farewell at the borders of Lórien was just as short.

First, it surprised Tarisilya that Thondrar didn't want to bring her to Caras Galadhon, after he had made pedantically sure to not leave her out of his sight for even a second on the way. Minutes later though, she noticed that she was far from being unwatched. Some things you just learned when your brother was a marchwarden. "That trick has long stopped working, Captain."

"Someday, I will get you again." Haldir left his hideout between two thick bushes. In combination with the grey cloak of a guard they created a nearly perfect disguise. At least if you weren't familiar with such games for centuries, after being scared again and again as an elfling. "Where did you lose your brother?"

You had to know the tendentially rather ill-humored captain well to read this stoic tone right. Even after such a short time, Haldir already missed Tegiend in the basic group builing his loyal entourage for many decades now. And the two of them were probably still the only ones without an idea why.

Tarisilya wasn't interested in pointing it out to them. She had had her fill of complicated love stories.

The two elves were old enough to manage things on their own. Not to mention that Haldir would probably rather dump her on a ship going west before admitting that the pure embodiment of sense of duty had a private life too.

"Cut the nonsense already," she grunted instead, with a weak grin. "How did you know? Did the Lady send you?"

"Your father," he admitted and cleared his throat, embarrassed. Haldir was one of the few persons understanding Tarisilya's urge to break free from too much protection and care. Occasionally, he even helped her with it. "Lord Elrond wrote to him. Do you want to ride alone?"

"No, that's alright." After all that silence in the last days, talking about all that had happened in her absence would be good for her.

First she wanted to know though, how quickly certain rumors made their rounds in elven realms. "So, what are they saying about me?"

"You mean, except that you broke yet another heart?" Tarisilya's scathing look only made Haldir grin. Such banter had always been part of their daily routine.

"Don't worry too much. This time, it was someone at least who shifts for himself quite well. Admittedly, I do wonder though if the elf hasn't been born yet who can make you forget your crazy childhood ideas."

"Don't you start with that, too, or I'll reconsider letting you escort me." Disgruntled, Tarisilya set a fast speed.

Haldir wouldn't have a problem, keeping pace with her by foot. But he would hopefully be too much out of breath to talk.

"Don't worry. I don't meddle in other people's lives on principal." Haldir's comparatively unhurried jog for a trained marchwarden was hardly more than morning training. "I can only tell you what I learned in my time guarding these borders. Some things don't change, Ilya. Not in elven realms. Don't let this hope destroy your life."

"If I want unwanted advice, I'll go to my family. Besides …" Her eyes sought out the dark forest in the distance, so close … and yet untouchable. Not forever, she would make sure of that. The first step was leaving her youth behind for good, so she could decide alone which way to go. "Some things do change. Someday."


	18. Chapter 18

_T.A. 2509_

"We shouldn't rest in an area like this, Lady Arwen. We'll be arriving soon." Thondrar impatiently stopped his horse when Lord Elrond's daughter was suddenly gone from his side where she belonged. For the umpteenth time, something seemed to distract her that she demonstratively had to go inspect, prolonging the journey once again. As if it was _his_ fault that he had to take her to Lórien against her will.

At least this time, she had an important reason, as he belatedly realized. Somebody was waiting by the edge of the Golden Wood who was not welcome in these realms. He obviously wanted to say good-bye to Arwen before she would go into hiding for a long time.

"Go. Just a few minutes though. This is not a place for sentimentality," he sighed when Arwen turned her pleading gaze to him, and motioned the other soldiers to keep an eye on the surroundings.

He had been on more pleasant quests before than taking the Evenstar of the elves so close to Dol Guldur. It would be a relief, finally delivering Arwen to her grandmother in Caras Galadhon where in addition to being safe from every possible threat, she would receive extensive battle training. Long overdue, as far as he was concerned. There wouldn't always be someone around to help Arwen. Not when what they all feared would come true.

And truthfully, no one was doubting that it would anymore. Not after what had happened.

"I wish you were at least a little bit like your father." Arwen tapped her heels on her mare's sides to approach the elf in the distance, ignoring whatever threats might be waiting nearby.

If she thought she could make him angry, she knew neither him nor his father half as well as she thought. A lenient smile was all Thondrar had to spare for the outburst.

Arwen needed to vent her pain about this thing with her mother on someone, that was all. Especially since her father was way too caught up in his grief to even notice her. No matter how vehemently she had protested against leaving her home, Elrond didn't even seem to have heard her. Sure, no one could have forced Arwen if she wouldn't have given in. But in the end, the terrifying unfeelingness the Lord radiated right now, had changed her mind. For the moment, they had to separately process what had happened. And Arwen would come back to Imladris, though that probably felt like an eternity away to her right now.

Until then, the valley's surroundings would hopefully be secured again, and no she-elf would have to be fear being assaulted from behind anymore.

"I missed you." Not just hugging Legolas fiercely to say hello had seldom been so hard.

There was a lot they should talk about, but to her friend, only one subject had been important in the last century. So important that they hadn't met even once. Arwen had been afraid of that silence damaging their relationship. Instead, when she was finally facing him again, when she spotted the traces of the past worries on Legolas' face, it felt like the distance had only strengthened the bonds of their friendship. It gave her hope that this further separation wouldn't change either, what had endured between them for so long.

"How is your father doing?"

"He's vocally complaining that I took my leave for a few days, so it can't be too bad." Legolas tried to show her a smile that wouldn't quite come. Even with Thranduil's condition no longer life-threatening, the shocking occurrences were far from being processed yet.

"It wasn't your fault." With a movement invisible for the warriors in the distance, Arwen quickly caressed the back of his hand. She felt powerless, helpless, as usual when she had to see what the shadow in Middle-earth had made of an elf whom on every of their trips, she had fought for the last cookie in the picnic basket when they had been elflings.

Legolas had never quite understood that, but this was the only reason why she hated it when he was riding out with his bow. It hurt when someone forgot how to laugh. She could just hope that she wouldn't fare similarly.

"You weren't there, starlet." When he had last called her that, she had been 15. For some reason, that scared her more than the worn out look on his face. Legolas seemed resigned, hopeless, as if the war that everyone was talking about had already begun and he was certain, they would never meet again. "I know I disappointed him."

"Everyone makes mistakes, Legolas. Doesn't it show how much he loves you, that he was ready to sacrifice himself for you?"

Arwen felt Thondrar's gaze in her back and desperately tried to ignore twilight.

"You try too hard to live up to all expectations. You're looking for perfection that you will never achieve. No one can. It's the gift of the Valar that we don't have to do everything right."

It was the same that her father kept telling her, but Arwen could feel that her words didn't reach Legolas' heart. That fear of endangering others by his failure would probably be haunting him henceforth. Maybe after all this time, he had found his greatest weakness … And maybe Arwen had a lot more to learn than she was aware of.

"Let's get this over with." She squeezed his shoulder for a long moment. "Promise me, you're going to take care of yourself. Even when I'm not around for a while to tell you."

"If you'll be telling me that in a few centuries still, I'll primarily have to watch my back to keep your husband from slaying me." Legolas was even too exhausted to be angry about her being overprotecive again.

Arwen grimaced. "I'll never get married. Am I supposed to spend my time stitching flags for my husband and raise his children while he is going to war and on having great adventures without me? I'm going to learn how to defend myself now, that's way more important."

"Someday, an elf will change your mind about that," Legolas mentioned confidently. "But don't you dare choose someone I don't like. Before he proposes to you, he has to call on me first, just so we're clear!"

"Get in line with my father and brothers," Arwen returned just as jokingly but then stepped back, with a heavy heart.

"I'll get in touch as soon as ada wants me around again. Don't forget about me, alright?"

"About the most important she-elf in my life? How could I?" The attempt to fight the pain of parting with humor failed miserably. If Legolas didn’t happen to be allergic to some creature of Dol Guldur lurking nearby, he couldn't have too many reasons for wiping his eyes like that.

"The most important, am I? Just so you know, if you want me to introduce you to my future husband one day, I demand honesty as well." Arwen didn't even need to feign outrage.

"It's good to see your eyes shine so bright. It happens way too seldom," she added when Legolas lowered his head. At this point, he didn't want to talk about it, she had to accept that. "I hope, someday you can bring yourself to confide in me."

"Someday," he nodded.

Arwen somehow managed not to burst into tears before she was out of sight and earshot.

_T.A. 2580_

When Vandrin had been delivered letters on their journey so far, the contents had never affected Tarisilya or her brother. Therefore, Tarisilya didn't pay much notice when they stopped by at the Golden Mug tavern to spend the night, and the innkeeper handed her father a decade-old looking thick scroll, every bit as awestruck and fascinated as most men in the presence of Firstborn were.

It was probably another of these periodic reports that Lady Galadriel kept on sending. She stubbornly tried to keep Vandrin posted about the events in Lórien. Occasionally, she asked him something urgent, too. Most of the time though, she was only trying to find out when he would be back. The adventure that Vandrin had taken Tegiend and Tarisilya on after that one summer in Imladris hadn't even lasted two hundred years yet, but people in Lórien already seemed to despair without the council of a very experienced elf like him.

Tarisilya sometimes wondered how things would be handled in the Golden Wood, should Vandrin ever decide to sail into the west. Not that she expected her father to, not after dwelling on this world for millennia, longer than many other elves. But from time to time, it was amusing to picture it.

The urge to laugh subsided quickly though when Vandrin motioned Tegiend and her to join him. Tarisilya rarely saw her father unhinged like that. He'd seen too much in his life for that. But even in the bad lighting of the smoky pub it was easy to see that he had turned a shade paler than usual.

"Lady Celebrían has left for Valinor." Without prelude or preparation, Vandrin stated what surprised the twins just as much as him. In those long years without contact to any other elves, they seemed to have missed one or two important things after all. "After being assaulted by orcs, she lost every faith in this world." Which explained why this development was so heavy on Vandrin. There weren't many elves who had suffered an attack on body and soul by these foul creatures and had lived to tell.

"I'm sure she didn't choose the easy way out." Changing seats, Tarisilya sat down on the fragile wooden bench and sneaked under her father's arm. Actually, she was too old to be held like that, but she felt he needed that right now. His loving, thankful glance proved her right. "She has always been very kind to us."

"She is a unique elf." Still looking riddled with grief, Vandrin put the scroll in his travel pouch. "I should have been there for her instead of letting her narrow-minded husband scare me off. It's too late for that now. Maybe we can make something else right though. The twins have become completely unapproachable right now, they're hunting orcs together with some men almost the whole time. But Elrond has brought his daughter to safety in Lórien. She's undergoing strict battle training there too. Apparently, the Lord fears, something could happen to her has well. Enough even to accept that Arwen can never be a healer now. Or that she'll have to manage the same balancing act as her brothers, of worrying more about an enemy's life than her own to keep on helping patients. I've decided against that needless double burden long ago, as you know. But just because of that, no one who knows the downsides it involves better than me. Arwen needs help now."

"Do you want to go back?" Considering that Vandrin had nearly needed to force Tegiend to interrupt his marchwarden career for this journey, he sounded remarkably disappointed about its possible end. After all, they hadn't seen half of the things yet that Vandrin wanted to show them. And since Vandrin had just warned him that he wouldn't be of much use to his friends Elladan and Elrohir right now, stopping by in Imladris obviously wouldn't do much.

"I leave that to you." Vandrin looked mostly at Tarisilya. "She's your friend. If you rather want to be there for her … and join her on her path … She sure would like some familiar company. As long as you're mindful of what I told you about never taking a life …" The resigned displeasure in his words was hard to ignore.

Elrond of all people suddenly encouraging his daughter to learn how to use a sword, altered some traditions that had been a moot point in their family for centuries. It also meant tough, there was truth to the rumors about a growing danger in Middle-earth. That such measures might be necessary, no matter how many elves disapproved of them.

Vandrin had long stopped forcing Tarisilya to do anything. He probably wouldn't be in her way now if she decided to tag along with Arwen. To do what she had wished for so much in the past.

"No." But the answer, coming from her lips before Tarisilya had even thought about it, surprised no one more than her.

Yet it was the right one. The three of them just came from a long, isolated stay in the mountains. Only days ago they had entered this still quite new realm of the Rohirrim, a land so young and fascinating, where horses - Tarisilya's favorite animals - played a big part. For that reason alone she wanted to stay for a while, and then see much more of Middle-earth before she would be ready to go home. To sit around there, waiting for certain things to change, listening to visions of darkness that after the developments in Imladris suddenly seemed so much more real, training a little bit with a bow again, only with inanimate targets of course … There would be enough time for all of that then. In the meantime, her brother and father surely would train her if she asked them. Then Tarisilya would feel more at ease, residing in possibly orc-infested areas.

But she never wanted to allow herself any stagnancy again.

Arwen maybe could, because it was Elrond's wish, and apparently, because she had also found a new calling to keep her busy for centuries to come.

Tarisilya wouldn't fight for the same with might and main. It was only when her father gave up at least part of his stubbornness for the first time, that she finally realized that. Being able to shoot some arrows, that was alright. But she didn't want to hurt Vandrin with this when it wasn't absolutely necessary. Maybe some things had less to do with obedience than with respect.

Besides, she didn't want to give up the freedom yet that her father offered her with this journey. In Lórien, she always succumbed to routine way too quickly. "That can wait. We have so much to do left."

"As you wish." Vandrin obviously didn't quite get it, but he didn't ask. Definitely another improvement of his former behavior.

After moving into their respective rooms, the elves got back together at the restaurant's most secluded table for dinner, where the glances of the Men hardly reached them.

Vandrin seemed to feel that Tarisilya was still agitated by that story about Lady Celebrían. "Don't worry too much, Ilya. I have witnessed many visions of Lady Galadriel and feared some of them myself that then turned out to be inaccurate. The gift of foresight is not an infallible glimpse ahead. The future is always in motion."

"I heard that before," she replied slightly ironically, lost for a moment in memories of her last stay in Imladris, when the world there had still mostly been intact. When the most important thing for her hadn't been any kind of prophecy but an eccentric librarian.

If she'd known back then, that she had maybe seen Lady Celebrían for the last time ever, she would have personally have said good-bye to her. She would have thanked her for everything and especially have asked her a few more questions.

Now there was only one elf left who could give her the answers she craved. "Tell me about her."

"About Lord Elrond's wife?" After all these centuries, Vandrin sometimes could still not follow her wild mental leaps.

"No." Tarisilya took heart and then his hand. She didn't want the consideration for his pain keep her any longer. It had been Lady Celebrían who had made her see that. That at least should not have been for nothing. "About our mother."

_T.A. 2999_

_I waited for you, my prince._

_I wish we wouldn't be only meeting in my dreams._

_Are you sure this is a dream?_

_Am I dead then?_

_Then I would have greeted you with a slap, not with a kiss._

_I miss your insolence, moon-queen._

_Not for much longer, my prince. Not for much longer._

"You are being missed." Elrond didn't care about disturbing his guest's meditation, not today. Without waiting for permission, he sat down next to Legolas, on that bench right under the palace' large celebration hall, where they could hear the other elves partying. For a few minutes, he joined the silence.

It was the smallest, and the only part of the garden that allowed an unhindered view east, that his guest had chosen, and it was utterly deserted. When there was an occasion to celebrate at least for a few hours, most people didn't want to be reminded of what enshrouded Middle-earth like a poisonous cloak, approaching faster than they liked.

But Legolas was one of the people most affected by what was happening in Mordor, and what wouldn't flourish in obscurity for much longer. It was only a blink in the eyes of a Firstborn since Sauron had been driven from Dol Guldur by the White Council – an event that Thranduil had not wanted his son to be part of. Then he had left him behind as his substitute yet again when that unfortunate thing with the dwarves and the dragon had happened; instead, he had rather burned a certain red-haired captain in this battle, whose soul Elrond had been busy trying to put back together bit by bit since then. And all that despite Legolas making an outstanding contribution towards defending his realm, when Thranduil had been knocked out by those bad injuries. Now the relationship between father and son was once more catastrophic.

Even if you didn't know any of that, you could tell by simply looking at the still so young Prince. His favorite color silver had been left in the cabinet tonight. A tight black robe covered his slender body. Hardly more than a few crystals on the fabric, reflecting the light, distinguished him from a herald of Sauron himself. His cheeks looked hollow, emphasizing the pale color of his skin. He hadn't even asked about Tauriel once since arriving here though the two of them had used to be close once.

"You should have tried talking to your father."

"I did, milord. We don't speak the same language anymore. I'm sick of arguing with him." Legolas took the glass that Elrond offered him without even looking at it, emptying it just as uncaring. There probably could be poison in it and he'd only realize when starting to feel sick.

"I know you are having more guests than usual tonight. I don't want to keep you from your duties."

"If you want to be alone, go to one of the streams." An edge of sharpness crept into Elrond's voice. The Lord of Imladris wasn't to be sent away like a servant.

"You're the Ambassador of the first realm threatened by Sauron's shadow again. The elves in there would appreciate the chance to talk to you to ease their minds. Many have given up hope as you know. Ships are leaving for Valinor continuously. Positive news are seldom these days. So either act like a grown-up or retreat."

"Very well, milord." Unfazed, on the outside, from the blunt speech, Legolas finally turned his gaze away from the east.

There really wasn't anything calling Legolas back to the celebration hall. For him, this event didn't offer any kind of comfort.

And yet the elves had made such an effort to make the upcoming millennium of darkness forgotten at least for one night. It showed from a distance already. All windows were veiled with white fabric reflecting both star- and moonlight. Instead of torches, stalactites in all colors lit the room that with Thranduil's permission, Legolas had brought with him. Dying rock, sure, cut from its roots, but bright enough still for a few hours. A few very talented Lórien elves had brought their instruments and provided distraction with shallow songs that could even be heard through closed windows, a tact for those indulging in the tradition of dancing in the middle of the room.

A pleasant atmosphere for sure if one managed to relax, but Legolas was still relieved when Lord Elrond chose the long way back to the palace, a narrow pebble path leading to the side entrance. It granted him at least a few more minutes of silence.

Yet any attempt at serenity vanished immediately when they passed two persons sitting under one of the tall trees. At first, the couple didn't even seem to notice that they were being watched.

When they realized, they let go of each other and got to their feet suspiciously quickly, as if that could now brighten Elrond's somber expression.

Arwen was standing next to a being you wouldn't exactly suspect to find in these realms – a Man. The missing space between them, the much too personal embrace left no doubt about what was going on here.

"My foster son Estel." Elrond shoved Legolas on with one hand firmly on his shoulder, to stop him from staring at the couple in bewilderment.

"But … Arwen … I mean … a _Man_?" Dumbfounded, Legolas tried to read Elrond's hardened features, to find out how he could allow this, in his own valley no less. Of course no elf had a right to tell another grown up elf what to do, but encouraging this abomination in his own home, something that was all the way inappropriate and that obviously, Elrond wasn't comfortable with either …

"There's only one partner in a lifetime for all of us, Legolas. We may not always understand the choices of fate, but that won't change anyone's feelings. You of all people should know that." For the first time since they had come together to meet Vandrin's twins in this valley centuries ago, Elrond revealed that he at least suspected how close Legolas really had come to Tarisilya.

"Arwen has long outgrown childhood. She's not only our Evenstar but has also become a warrior, though it wasn't easy for her, rejecting a possible healer career. She found her very own strength inside of her and knows exactly what she wants. But she also knows that her love has to stand the test before I can approve. I had to suffer this pain already when my brother chose a mortal life. I won't let my child do the same on a whim. The future is uncertain for all of us, even more so for him. We're facing difficult times, and Arwen turned to someone with one of the most important roles in them. That's not a time for such irretrievable decisions."

Some of the discontent left Elrond's eyes when he looked back at his foster son. An expression of fondness replaced it. In spite of that unbelievable burden of maybe losing his daughter to her love for a Secondborn, Legolas sensed nothing of that hostile coldness towards Men anymore, that he remembered from that conflict with those orcs back then. Elrond as well had grown some in the last centuries. Apparently, it was never too late for that.

Maybe that should give Legolas some hope about his father's behavior.

Estel seemed to feel that he was being watched and turned his head to look at him. Keen grey eyes rested on Legolas for a moment before the Man respectfully bowed to him.

"It is far from me to question your decisions, milord."

Legolas decided that he needed something to drink. Maybe enough wine would help getting the image of Arwen lying in the arms of this untidy looking Man off his mind.

At least _she_ could have told him seeing as the Lord didn't even seem to have considered it. Just like when she had chosen a warrior life, she had probably already known what he would have to say about it.

It had taken Tarisilya nearly a millennia to place more importance on things like decency and etiquette than her brother. By elven standards, it hadn't been long since Tegiend had last admonished her to sit straight at the breakfast table and to not drill Lady Galadriel with questions. Now it was Tarisilya nearly losing her head when Tegiend's marchwarden duties were more important to him than every law of politeness. Thanks to that, they were late for the most important celebration of the last years. Did such indifference towards the most important manners come from watching the borders of Lórien? Knowing Haldir, it wouldn't surprise her.

"Wonderful. Everyone's already here," she growled irritatedly, when they finally passed the city gate of Imladris and approached the brightly lit palace in a fast trot. "Why did you have to take that last shift? Don't you realize how badly the Lord will think of Lórien and us now?"

"Probably not any worse than when Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn didn't personally accept his invitation," Tegiend answered dryly. "Get over yourself, sis. It's only the Men's turn of the year. It's probably only thanks to that Dúnadan, Lord Elrond allows to live here, that there even is a celebration. Most elves will already be too drunk to even realize that we arrived."

"You spend too much time with your captain." On the road to the stables, Tarisilya reluctantly slowed Manyala down. There was no way now to sneak into the celebration hall, unseen, anyway. It wasn't becoming, racing through town in a donkey trot. Tegiend still had a talent for spoiling the most beautiful evenings.

There was only one reason why she had accepted Galadriel's request to officially fill in for her here so eagerly, a reason she hopefully would meet in the palace in the foreseeable future. That was what she wanted to think about now, not the pessimism poisoning Lórien for half an eternity.

Tegiend abruptly got Matis to stop and dismounted, then helped Tarisilya to jump to the ground so she wouldn't ruin her brandnew dress. To save time, she had already got changed during a break on the last stretch of the road. "Wait for me at the entrance."

"Of course, what did you think?" Tarisilya would rather have taken care of Manyala herself. She usually never let anyone do that for her. But the impatience to get to that party was stronger. She couldn’t risk the one she hoped to see there, possibly already departing before her arrival.

Approaching the palace, she immediately deeply regretted her decision to precede Tegiend though. She was indeed expected by someone on the stairs leading to the doorway. But it wasn't the elf she couldn't stop thinking about.

In an unconscious gesture, Tarisilya wrapped the shawl of her dress tightly around her elbows, doing her best to not lower her head. It had been a while since someone had last thrown her off balance. After more than five hundred years, Erestor piercing glance still managed that . "Are you our official welcoming committee?"

"Ilya." On the last steps he came towards her, with hasty movements, a stark contrast to his stiff posture earlier. A posture with a lot more tension than Tarisilya remembered, with an aura she knew well enough from Tegiend to recognize it at once. Erestor had already oozed determination when they had first met, but now he seemed to be doing some battle training on top. Probably on his own, if Glorfindel's attitude towards that subject had not changed a lot.

As soon as he was being close to her though, all of that body control left him, as if not a day had gone by since they had hid behind a library shelf together. Had she not made it clear that it was over? That he had kept on writing to her had meant more than expected then. Her lack of answers apparently didn't bother him.

Tarisilya instinctively flinched when he reached for her so he only brushed the back of her hand.

Fortunately, he retreated on his own accord then and formally bowed to her. "I almost wouldn't have recognized you. Maturity becomes you well."

"Thank you." Were people conspiring to corrupt this evening for her? She really had no time for this.

Well, Tegiend would find her inside the building as well. Lifting the skirt of her dress Tarisilya kept moving, after regarding Erestor with a polite smile. That had to do.

"Do you not care at all about the way we have parted, Ilya?" His sad tone, discreetly whispered words when she was right next to him … Erestor still knew how to use certain weapons. "I do. And I don't want this to come between us."

"That is in the past. I don't want to talk about it anymore." And in the past, she probably would have stopped once more. Today, she managed to keep on climbing the stairs, though every step felt as if it weighed tons. "Please accept that. It is better for us to avoid each other."

Erestor leaned back heavily against the marble stair-rail. "Did you read none of my messages? That we were not meant to be doesn't mean I stopped caring about you, Ilya."

"That doesn't change anything, I wish you would understand that." It hurt. Though things had gone so wrong between them, it wasn’t easy to see Erestor suffering that much. If he had possibly - maybe even unconsciously - still been hoping in secret, if he'd been waiting for this one meeting – Tarisilya could only imagine how cruel it had to be, being rejected then.

Since learning that she would spend the turn of the year of Men here, she was having nightmares. Part of her was afraid of what would happen if a delegation of Mirkwood indeed had arrived here as well. Maybe she wouldn't fare any better than Erestor then.

Even more stomachache, just what she needed. This evening got better and better. She had to get out of here.

"Excuse me. I'm being expected by someone whom I haven't seen in way too long."

"Are you? There seems to be missing a ring on your hand." This tactic wasn't new to Tarisilya either. When you couldn't beat someone, obviously you had to try to denounce him. So much for Erestor being over it.

"I'm pretty sure that is none of your business." Tegiend of all people saved Tarisilya from the unpleasant situation. For the first time ever, she was relieved when he put a potential admirer of hers to flight with a scathing glance and one motion of the head.

"I only don't want to be even more late," he claimed when Tarisilya gratefully squeezed his hand.

"Besides, that guy was never really truly sane," he murmured when she just grinned at him. "We didn't come here for that kind of trouble."

"Definitely not."

Taking a deep breath, Tarisilya linked arms with her brother and forced her prettiest smile on her lips. In vain, she tried to calm down her heart. It beat even faster when they got closer to the celebration hall. Suddenly there was no doubt. She felt him nearby. Unlike her brother, Tarisilya only had their mother's talent for the ability of easily seeing others in her mind without any kind of mental bond, when it was about someone she had feelings for. That had crystallized out in the last centuries more and more. Someone like Legolas.

It slowly started to dawn on her that the endless waiting had indeed not been futile. She was exactly where she was supposed to be.

Hopefully, one day Erestor would understand that too.


	19. Chapter 19

"You look surprised, Arwen."

Equipped with a sense of hearing that allowed picking up a whisper at the other side of the valley if you tried, Elves early in their lives learned the art of selective perception. To lock out what you didn't need to see or hear. With enough experience, in everyday life it was only unexpected or special noises that caught your attention. In this case, a voice that Arwen had not heard in a very long time.

"I just wasn't aware that we were expecting more visitors of Lórien. Come with me, I want you to meet someone."

It was as if Estel and her were standing before two completely different elves greeting them with a not too overdone bow respectively a curtsy. "Tegiend, Tarisilya … It's so good to see you again. I missed you a great deal."

"As we have missed you. It has been too long. It is our pleasure. I hoped that we would see you in Lórien before you returned here, but ada and us could only bring ourselves to end our travels a few years back." Not a trace of nervousness and no stutter in Tarisilya's voice. Her eyes didn't leave Arwen's for even a moment, only quickly glancing at Estel when Arwen mentioned his name before being on her again. Her shoulders were motionless, without any tightness in them, her back straight, her legs not constantly shifting like they had used to …

Moreover, Tarisilya's next words, containing a greeting from Galadriel, revealed how much her vocabulary had grown in the last centuries, how many teachings she must have undergone. There were none of these too long, embarrassing pauses, no looking for the right word anymore.

Unlike many other elves, Arwen's friend also didn't show any sort of irritation about the unusual nature of Arwen's companion. Probably Galadriel had already informed her in detail beforehand. It was a relief that at least one of her closest acquaintances didn't seem to hold Arwen's decision against her.

Tegiend on the other hand stayed mostly silent after acknowledging his old friends Elladan and Elrohir in the distance with an honest, short smile. The armor of a Lórien marchwarden he had not even shed for one evening of leisure. His continuous checking glances across the room made it clear that he was mostly here as Tarisilya's escort. And probably not because he expected her to be in danger in Imladris. Some things, with time, just became a deeply ingrained habit as Arwen knew from experience. Like getting an overview of the situation before he led Tarisilya into the hall.

By now, Elrond had joined the group to put one hand on one the twins' shoulders respectively. "You were gone for far too long. I'm happy that you finally found your way back."

"Now that we have returned to Lórien for good, we will always try to follow an invitation of Imladris, milord. Ada sends his apologies. He very much appreciates that you were happy to welcome him tonight. His duties in Lórien unfortunately made it impossible for him to accompany us."

If the countless glances of the elves all around them were bothering Tarisilya, she didn't let it show. She barely even seemed to register them. Arwen could easily see many guests – her beloved brothers among them – instinctively look up at the deep, husky sound of Tarisilya's voice though. Thanks to a very handsome appearance on top, the young elf would probably be swamped with requests for a dance tonight.

And yet she gave off an air of sadness. Only when they were done with all greeting rituals, when everyone was sitting down and Tarisilya's eyes kept on searching the room for someone who wasn't present, Arwen realized why.

"Excuse me, Estel."

Gently taking Tarisilya's shoulder, she guided her to the terrace of the circular hall. "I think there's someone else you should say hello to."

Her voice disturbing Legolas' dull monitoring of the landscape, made him throw an irritated look over his shoulder which quickly changed to something completely different though.

Arwen doubted that the two of them noticed when she returned to the room.

It was a strangely sobering experience, something suddenly happening that you had been waiting for so much. The details of a dream disappearing that you'd imagined over and over, leaving nothing but naked reality. There were no ideals anymore, only the here and now. And the fear that with the dream coming true, it would lose its meaning.

For minutes, none of them spoke or even moved a muscle. They only looked into each other's eyes, trying to guess the other's thoughts, to find out how the last centuries had affected what they had once shared. Every word could be the wrong choice. Every moment together, as few as they'd had back then, was extremely present in their minds, no longer suppressed or filed away with a patient smile. The memory was back to life, just like at the beginning of this millennium when they had been overrun by something flooring both of them completely.

Suddenly, tears were streaming down Tarisilya's cheeks.

Just a second later, Legolas pulled the elf in his arms, whom he had fallen in love with before either of them had known what love was. It wasn't a timid, platonic hug, it was one so firm, it nearly hurt them both. One he wished that would never end.

"You look breathtaking, Ilya." A stunned whisper against her ear was all he dared to let out.

"I'm afraid I can't say the same." She examined him sadly, his face that showed so many traces of the past battles as he knew too well. "Once again, one could mistake you for an orc, my prince."

"Can't you be serious for once?" But the chuckle at least helped retreating and taking her hands instead of crushing her half to death.

The disbelief remained. No, this wasn't how he remembered her.

Tarisilya had turned into an enchantingly beautiful elf. Youthful full cheeks had been replaced by finer features in a very symmetrical face. A tight fitted red dress with a bold, low neckline accented slightly bigger hips. Legolas instinctively wondered what her legs under the elegantly overlapping layers of her skirt looked like – much more grown-up thoughts than a little infatuation back then. Many details immediately caught his eye but none as much as her thick hair, a broad wave that in spite of her bangs and a tail at the back of her head fell all the way down to Tarisilya's legs, nearly reaching the floor.

Before she had even said much, Legolas sensed that Tarisilya had not become a grown up only in body, but also in mind. Maybe not fully mature - at that age, he certainly hadn't been - but more than capable by any standards, to take responsibility for her own life and choices. By Vandrin's standards too, or she wouldn't have come. She wouldn't have embraced him like this, or looked at him like that, caressing his hands with still shy, tender movements.

"I wasn't joking." She raised her hand to his cheek, graceful and deliberate in a way, only thorough development of inner peace could teach you. "You look like death."

"Don't worry." Legolas carefully took her face between his hands. It was still surreal, touching this new Tarisilya, a whole different elf, as if she would vanish right before his eyes if he came too close. "My heart has been darkened by what threatens to suffocate this world for a while. But now I don't have to fret anymore. Now there's a reason to survive all these dangers. I was worried, your father would take you into the west before I got a chance to hold you in my arms again."

"I could never leave as long as I had hope that you were waiting for me." She nestled close to his shoulder when he hugged her again and cried a few last tears about their long wait that had finally ended. "If I ever had doubts about how deeply we are connected, being far from you for so long has killed those. Even Tegiend doesn't object anymore by now, I think."

His lips a hard, thin line, Legolas looked at the terrace door. "You sure?"

Tarisilya followed his look and immediately stepped away from him, out of habit alone, when she saw the blame in Tegiend's eyes before her brother stomped back into the celebration hall. Probably to join the twins, who by the looks of them had been very busy reducing the available number of wine barrels already.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what's gotten into him again ..."

"And we shouldn't care about that on such a happy evening," Legolas interrupted her, no longer ready, after an eternity of uncertainty and doubtful waiting, to act considerately towards someone who had to learn to let go. "We never had more than a few minutes alone. There's so much I want to know about you."

"Then you'll have to find me a big mug of water, or my mouth will soon be too dry to talk," she replied, laughing. "My first thousand years are nearly over, my prince. This could take a while."

"Your wish is my command, milady." He teased her with a deep bow and hurried into the building, with steps much lighter than when he had arrived in Imladris.

"So this is why you could never tell me who she was?" On his way back, Legolas was headed off by Arwen. At least she was alone, sparing him the embarrassment of saying hello to her partner for the moment. "Are you seriously still fearing your father's displeasure so much that you need to hide her?"

"What a coincidence," he answered, feigning surprise. "I've been meaning to ask you about some _things you couldn't tell me_ myself. I'm afraid my story is not half as exciting. It includes no attempt at reviving an elf who died a hero's death after she bonded with her mortal. Not even a regular relationship, just a friendship. You would be bored, considering how much you suddenly seem to love drama."

For seconds she just stared at him, open-mouthed. "A small-minded elf would now slap you in the face, you know."

"No one ever slapped me." Legolas wasn't ready to have his marvelously improved mood spoiled and just passed Arwen by.

Unfortunately, she was faster and more flexible than him with a full mug and glasses in his hands and managed to get right in front of him again. "Someone should have. Maybe you wouldn't be so inconsiderate then."

She turned her head to Tarisilya at the edge of the terrace, who was visibly enjoying the evening breeze blowing over her slender figure, just taking occasional confused looks back over her shoulder to see what was taking Legolas so long. "Does she even know you’re such a coward? That you want to keep on denying it?"

Legolas started to become seriously angry. Arwen reminded him quicker than he liked that there was indeed much for Tarisilya and him to talk about, before they could decide the next step. That was nobody's business but their own though.

"Did _your_ feelings for a mortal dull your elven senses before you even gave up eternity for him? Or are you just not listening? There _is_ nothing to deny. We just met for the first time in centuries. Which is why I would be grateful if you let me return to to my conversation with my acquaintance instead of seeing ghosts."

If they weren't surrounded by much too curious elves, a premier might have happened now, Legolas would probably indeed have endured the first slap of his life – and admittedly, rightly so. It showed in Arwen's darkened eyes, in the short twitch of her hand.

"You know nothing about relationships, Legolas Thranduilion. You're like an elfling throwing his first toy bricks across the room. I leave you to deal with your conflict alone as you want me to. But know that you are the last person in this world for me to ever talk about more than the weather again."

She didn't stay to hear another defense or an apology but fled back to Estel sitting at Elrond's table with him and his sons, smoking a foul-smelling pipe.

When the man noticed Arwen's disturbance, he searched the room for the reason and regarded Legolas with a look that would make an orc throw down his weapon, whimpering.

Enough fun with Imladris residents for one night. Legolas sat down next to Tarisilya, with his legs crossed like her, and tried to leave the interlude behind as quickly as possible.

"Did you fight because of me?" Tarisilya asked, her head slightly tilted. Even time had not cured her curiosity.

"That was unavoidable and overdue, I'm afraid. It will pass, it always does."

Legolas held out a glass of water to her. "Now you've got no excuse, I hope you know that."

"You mean, I have to answer even the embarrassing questions? Well, if His Highness commands me …" As if they had never been parted, they went right back to their usual banter. And yet everything was different.

He didn't need to ask again. Tarisilya quickly started gushing about everything she had wanted to tell him for so long. About how things had changed so much, about how tired in body and mind her father and brother had recently become. That the shadow that had befallen Middle-earth burdened them as well.

She admitted to feeling the darkness herself but insisted on hope for a better future. "Because I love this world, you know? I don't understand how so many elves give up on it. This is our home! Each time someone tells me terrible news about a city of Men or even of Elves, I can counter with a day when I saw another miracle in Middle-earth."

About their travels, she also told him much. That she had always felt accompanied and protected on the way, but never watched or controlled, and that she had found many chances to be alone on them.

She talked about the beauty of Mithlond, the gateway to Valinor, a sight that had touched her deeply but not awoken her Sea-longing yet, since she'd never even been remotely ready to go this way. Not as long as Legolas was here in Middle-earth.

Tarisilya remembered the fascination of the woods, even dark ones like Fangorn, and the endlessness of the mountains where she had dwelled for years and years, losing the biggest part of her immaturity and egocentricity.

Then she spoke about the stark contrast, the pure excitement in the cities had posed to that. "Gondor and Rohan have no equal, Legolas, Rohan in particular. I very much hope, the Rohirrim will solve the conflicts that arose when they settled in that land. I had never seen so much happy short-lived life before. Men may have their faults, just like Elves have theirs, but only few of them are truly evil. I saw their children …" Melancholy crept into her eyes. Without really realizing, her fingertips grazed her abdomen as an instinctive yearning surfaced.

Only at the end, she told him about journeys that had made it clear that Tegiend's and Vandrin's worries were justified. The towers of Mordor in the distance. Deserted battlefields of Men, Dwarves and Elves. Fascinating places like Isengard, where everyone's hopes lay these days and where she still hadn't felt welcome.

The darkness of the mines of Moria. "We didn't go inside," she quickly added when she saw Legolas' dismay. "Ada didn't even want to get close, but Tegiend felt something … He couldn't explain it. Like a signal fading more and more as we came closer. At some point, there was only pain. And fear. Whatever is in there is more evil than anything we ever felt in our lives."

"Dwarves are often reckless." The aversion coloring Legolas' words, that was doubtlessly more his father's than his own, didn't allow much compassion for the miners. "They never know when it's enough. Maybe they wiped themselves out at their digging."

Tarisilya stared at him in confusion, not used to hear him utter such hard words, but dropped the subject then.

The hour was growing late. Many elves had gathered on the terrace to look into the west once the day would end, and Middle-earth's new fate would further unfold.

For now, she had said enough. It was Legolas' turn to speak, but before that, she wanted to be by his side when – at least for Men – the new millennium would start.

Tonight, no elf could escape the significance of this event. The Age of Men had started long ago.

It was a somber mood. Many elves closed their eyes and silently counted down the last minutes. There was no sense of a new beginning. Tarisilya saw many faces of elves looking as careworn as Legolas'. The she-elves, being spared the horrors of war for the most part, only knew the suffering their husbands told them about. Maybe that was why they were the ones still having hope. But what if this hope was long in vain?

All of a sudden, the fear grew in Tarisilya too. A chill made her shiver, just like when she had looked at Mordor and wondered what was going on there. She yearned to hold Legolas' hand, as casual as she had earlier, but he seemed so withdrawn that she didn't dare to.

Instead, out of nowhere, Tegiend who was feeling her sadness, appeared and wrapped his arms around her shoulders from behind. "I'm here for you, Ilya."

"You were always there for me," she answered quietly. But as much as she loved and trusted her brother, the coldness in her heart didn't completely go away. Tegiend wouldn't always be able to protect her. Especially not from the pain that love brought as well as joy.

The new year of Men started with tears running down her cheeks.

_T.A. 3000_

After too few hours of sleep, Tarisilya was relentlessly collected by Arwen to come tell stories. Only in the late evening, she returned to the guesthouse assigned to Tegiend and her, where they always stayed when they visited Imladris.

She hoped that her brother was already asleep after hanging about the guard facilities with the twins all day, but of course he was awake. Tarisilya felt his eyes on her when she tiptoed to the cabinet and traded her plain, loose-fitting dress for one similar to that from last night. "Don't start falling quiet again when you have something to tell me. We're too old for that."

"I just thought, after all this time …" He paused and shrugged helplessly. "You have to know what you're doing yourself by now. I just would have preferred him to take you to the celebration, instead of hiding your conversation on the terrace. Just because you're being free now, doesn't mean he is, Ilya."

"Don't be ridiculous." She sat down at the big mirror by the wall to do her hair that after such a long day didn't look neat enough. "You really think, elves don't have any bigger problems right now than their stupid outdated quarrels?"

"We are not talking about just any elf," Tegiend unnecessarily reminded her. "His Majesty of Mirkwood doesn't hesitate when he doesn't like something, you know that very well. And Lady Galadriel has better things to do than eating crow at his court again, just to break though his stubbornness."

Tarisilya raised one shoulder, though Tegiend's words rattled her deeply, trying to mar the happiness filling her soul since yesterday. "Legolas is not his father."

Tegiend's unnerved snort was answer enough.

No, Legolas was not Thranduil. Yet had not hesitated to agree when someone had asked him to stay away from Tarisilya before.

Granted, that had been an eternity ago. Back then, there had been no other way, and she would never blame him for that. But the small poisoned arrow that Tegiend hat loosed at her heart, remained. She was glad to leave the room.

Most of the visitors had already left Imladris, therefore Tarisilya had the garden of the guesthouses all to herself. Not much had changed here. The silence, broken only by the bubbling fountain, was still very comforting. She stopped at the spot where she had seen Legolas‘ lyrical side back then, stroking the backrest of the stone bench for a moment, and sank onto the grass surrounding it. More relaxed by the second, she laid down to let the view of the sky above wipe away the last of her worries. Why let Tegiend’s jealousy-fueled criticism bother her? She had had every patience in the world. She now deserved the elf whom she wanted to be with.

Having learned now how it felt when someone approached who was important to her, she reached out her hand, without even opening her eyes. "You took your time."

"Forgive me, Ilya. Lord Elrond wanted to talk about things that couldn’t wait.” Legolas sounded tired. Elrond seemed to have laid even more trouble on him to occupy his mind.

Accepting the wordless invitation, he sat down next to Tarisilya, with a short, feathery kiss to the back of her hand. "I see you’re refueling your energy."

"You know me, my prince. Nothing cleans my mind like a full moon.” Her skin burned where his lips had touched it. She wanted to feel that again – elsewhere, and before the night was over.

Sitting up slowly to hug her knees, she mirrored Legolas' position, so they could look right at each other. "At least you got rid of the mourning clothes." Silver white garments just looked best on him. They matched his bright hair and highlighted these eyes that the moonshine always drowned in such a fascinating light.

"And you look just as gorgeous as yesterday." His admiring look at her dress lingered on the admittedly sparse fabric of the top just a little too long. "Though it does show more than the dresses I’m used to seeing on elves. At some point, Lord Elrond will give you a cloak just to stop his sons from leering at you.”

Tarisilya started to laugh in bewilderment. "Legolas Thranduilion, you’re not jealous, are you?”

Before he could try to explain and destroy the proud feeling he’d just given her, she put a finger on his lips. "I find that extremely flattering.”

She liked the sensation of delicate skin against her fingertips. She wanted more of that. Without hurry, she traced the shape of his fine features, let a few strands of his hair slip through her fingers. She had waited so long for this … Apparently, so had he, considering how her touches made him shudder. They started leaning closer to each other nearly at the same moment. His wildly beating heart was like a drum roll in her ears. Finally ...

Bright laughter outside the garden wall had them startle as if it was a scream. Arwen.

"Quiet, mîl nín." A second voice, bright but very full, without a noticeable accent, so it could almost be mistaken for an elf's.

"What is it?” Legolas suddenly looked like someone had just made him King of Mirkwood. Regardless of that fight yesterday, Arwen was a very good friend of his, too. She had expected him to be happy for her. "Don’t you like him?”

"I’ll know that once she can bring herself to introduce us." Every romantic mood for the moment was gone. Legolas only relaxed his posture some when the couple was out of earshot.

"Why shouldn’t I like him? Because he’s taking so much of Arwen's time that she hasn’t spared a thought for her best friends in years? Because he’s stealing her heart, ignoring the consequences, and will expose her to an eternity of grief once his lifetime is up? Or even to her death, in case she chooses mortality?"

"I never heard you talk like that," Tarisilya sighed, forgivingly though. After all, when Lady Galadriel had revealed what had happened to her friend, Tarisilya had first had to come to terms with this idea as well.

"It is because they maybe will not have much time, that they spend as much of it together as possible. That happens seldom enough as it is. The life that he lives as a Dúnadan makes it hard. It’s not easy for him either, Legolas. Arwen says, he lost his family early on, and ever since then, he was always involved in some kind of war. He’s the last of his line …"

"That’s not the point. As I said: He hasn’t even give me a chance to dislike him so far." It was reassuring that some habits, Legolas had not broken in the last centuries, including the absentminded nibbling on a leavestalk.

"There’s no need to take it out on him when you are actually worried about her,” Tarisilya cautioned him.

"I know, I know.” Legolas fell backwards into the grass with a sigh and covered his eyes with one hand.

Tarisilya sensed what was going on in him anyway, and in this regard, she could sympathise with him. Why did it have to be Arwen of all people?

Was being by this man’s side really her destiny? What had never been more than a fairy tale, a legend about Arwen’s unearthly beauty and the light of the Evenstar, was it real? Apparently, more than just her looks resembled one of the very few elves ever accounted for, to be joined in love with a mortal. The Morning Star of the First Age, Lúthien Tinúviel …

This miracle held no fascination, it wasn’t a tale to tell your kids before bed. Lúthien had lived a life full of suffering and indeed given up eternal life, only to be with the Man she had loved.

The possibility of losing Arwen like that alone was an ice-cold noose around Tarisilya’s heart, and for Legolas it surely wasn't any different. And knowing that no one could save Arwen from this, weighed her down just as much. She had made her decision. She needed support now, not rejection from the ones closest to her. Which was probably why Elrond swallowed this bitter truth with a tormented smile.

Unlike certain elves who had nothing better to do than abandon their friendship with Arwen. Legolas groaned another deep sigh. "You need to slap me, moon-queen. Arwen says I deserve that, and I guess she’s right.”

"To get me to slap you, you need to mess up a lot more than being worried about your best friend, my prince.” If someone else bothered them now though, Tarisilya would happily turn them into a frog.

"So, do you plan to keep laying there all night or will you finally kiss me?”

Instead of that liberating gesture that she was waiting for so long, Tarisilya was suddenly regarded with a look so serious that fear started to choke her. "What? Don’t start stuttering again if you don’t want me to get as angry as last time, and say things again that I’ll regret.”

He didn’t stutter. And yet, he would been better off, saying nothing at all instead of voicing exactly what Tegiend had warned Tarisilya about. "Things are not so easy. I want to tell you before I lose control, like I almost did last night already. Before I begin something that I can’t stand by, because I’m forbidden to."

"Tell me … Did I miss something?" Tarisilya feigned looking around. "Is my father here somewhere? Or does Lord Elrond’s wine not agree with you? Because I’m pretty sure you just told me that at 3,000 years of age, you still let people tell you whom to fall in love with."

"I don’t need anyone’s permission for that. It has happened long ago, and time changed nothing about it. Unfortunately, it didn’t change my father’s hate for the Noldor's past either, or his aversion against those under Lady Galadriel’s guidance. He's inherited this weakness from his father and never learned better. That he feels, Galadriel left him alone in the last war, doesn't make it better.”

Legolas raised his hand when Tarisilya started to flare. "Wait. I just want you to understand before we decide where our way can take us. So much of what I’ve ever learned, my father has taught me. Although we are at conflict once more, I hate hurting him. I know you get that because your love for Vandrin is just as strong. My father and me couldn’t be less alike. Our views about differences between elves is just one point of many, and unfortunately the most persistent one. But something _did_ change. Ada has seen too much in his life to ignore that you need to cooperate to fight for your home. Unfortunately, there isn't a more stubborn elf from here to Valinor. He probably wouldn’t admit it if his life depended on it.”

"And you're seconding his stubbornness." Tarisilya suddenly felt just like when her father had forbidden her friend to see her because he had not deemed her ready. Burnt out and left alone. What had she been fighting for all these centuries? Why had she waited?

Legolas’ explanations did nothing to calm her down, on the contrary. He just didn’t have the courage to cut his father down to size. What did he have to fear? To be refused a throne he had never wanted in the first place? In a few millennia at the latest, when Thranduil would be finally sick of terrorizing Mirkwood, he’d surely come crawling back to his son.

Her grief drained her off of too much strength to scream at Legolas, but the coldness in her voice expressed her opinion about his retreat perfectly. "I can’t believe this.”

Quiet despair colored his voice when they failed to find a basis for this conversation. "Don’t you get it? I _want_ to be with you, Ilya! I spent more than one sleepless night, trying to come up with a solution. Why do you think I never tried contacting you again? I wanted to find a way for us first, but so far, it is hidden from me. Maybe I should have tried talking to ada earlier. I hesitated and hesitated, and finally it was too late.”

His gaze instinctively turned east. "I firmly believe that he can change, but not right now. Trying to tell him something would be like talking to a wall at this point. Nothing reaches his heart except for the worry that this world is ending, that he’s been living in for Ages. The same worry makes me despair. A long fight lies ahead of us, maybe even a new war. At war, there is no time for change.”

"If that is your decision …" Her body numb, Tarisilya got to her feet. He probably expected tears, or her to scream at him and slap him now after all. None of it happened. Being in this garden suddenly was unbearable for her. She needed to get out of here. "So I go, Legolas, and take the path that every elf of Middle-earth someday is destined to follow.”

He should be relieved actually, that she spared him the pain of knowing her to be stranded in Lórien, beyond his reach. Instead, Legolas suddenly jumped up as if the grass had caught fire. "You want to sail into the west?"

"I won’t stay here another day, knowing that I'll spend my eternity without the one I love. What keeps me here if war will soon destroy everything anyway? Tell me!” With a bitter laugh, she stepped back before his pain could possibly affect her decision. Why should it when her pain left him unmoved?

"Not even the most enchanting forest or the most unique city could erase my memory of you. I won’t spend my life waiting for you to finally accept your feelings and act on them.”

"I will not be losing you, Ilya." Legolas suddenly radiated a strange serenity.

The fear from a moment ago was gone. As was the insecurity, the doubts. It looked like a burden had been lifted off Legolas’ shoulders, finally revealing the elf whom Tarisilya had gotten to know, charismatic, charming, self-assured, courageous and unbelievably soulful. He didn’t look away for one second when he took her tearstained face between his hands. "And I do love you too. If that is meant to decide my fate from now on, I do no longer fight it.”

"Legolas …" Tarisilya managed only a whisper. Within minutes, two opposite extremes had overwhelmed her. She didn’t have strength left to wonder what this new behavior of his could mean.

Then his mouth was suddenly on hers, and the question was answered.

The feelings his words had nearly smothered immediately raged through her again. Never had Tarisilya felt anything as intensive as the touch that ended Legolas‘ and her long wait, opening the door into their new life. All sound and smell, all thoughts behind her closed eyes yielded to the overwhelming warmth spreading in her soul, when she was kissed for the first time in her life. Days could have gone by, weeks, millennia that they spent in this tight embrace under the moonlight only, enjoying a first cautious, slightly inexpert exploring of each other’s lips.

"Do you know how much you scared me?" Her knees going weak, Tarisilya wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Maybe this was only a dream and he could disappear anytime …

He didn’t disappear. He buried his hands in her hair and his face against her shoulder, probably to hide his feelings of guilt even from the nightingale in the trees. "I didn’t mean to. I really want this relationship, Ilya, no matter what it takes. I’m sorry."

"Never do that again." Tarisilya couldn’t stand seeing him like this. It had taken him a lot to surrender to this moment. He was truly ready to give up everything in his life for her.

Now it was her turn to make this bond possible, without them leaving scorched earth everywhere.

"I only needed to go sure that your heart is beating for me. I'd never ask you to renounce your whole life for me, Legolas. Until the clouds veiling our stars finally dissolve, no one will know about our love. Well, no one who doesn’t know already,” Tarisilya added, looking up to the window high above their heads where she suspected Tegiend to be.

"I wish I didn't have to burden you with this secrecy," Legolas whispered, heavy-hearted. "Yet I am thankful, you bear it for me. Rest assured that I will never stop fighting for peace between our people, until with our parents’ blessing, we can pledge ourselves to each other.”

"I will wait for it every day, my prince.” Tarisilya pulled Legolas’ hand close to her face and pressed a long kiss to it before she reluctantly stepped back to accompany him to the stairs, where they would say good-bye for today. They both needed a few hours to process what had happened.

"We probably should be grateful. At least we don’t have to meet in treetops in the rain anymore."

For some reason, Legolas thought that exceptionally amusing.

After a few seconds, she joined his laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * mîl nín = my love


	20. Chapter 20

That another spectator had watched Legolas and her, Tarisilya realized only belatedly.

Light-footed, she ran up the stairs, with her cheeks still flushed, her breath going too fast, her heart racing from more than the quick exercise. She jumped up the steps like an elfling, unable to stop running. If she did, all those feelings inside of her, the excitement, the happiness, the anticipation of a new life, would surely make her burst into a thousand pieces.

Her thoughts were a wild mess, failing to focus on a particular memory. Could there be anything better than having someone whisper words of love in your ear? Than hearing the raw honesty in a beautiful warm voice with every syllable, every single nuance?

In her enthusiasm, she nearly ran past her guesthouse. She'd probably not calm down before she would lay in her bed, recalling every single second of the evening. The firm hugs, the gentle touch on her lips …

Freezing, Tarisilya nearly stumbled when she turned around to hurry to the right door and saw a tall, very slender figure standing there. One that in spite of the bad lighting, she recognized immediately. "What are you doing here?"

Erestor didn't answer. Bewilderment marked his face.

Maybe Tarisilya should have chosen a less public place for Legolas' and her conversation. "I'm tired, so if you have nothing to say to me …"

He didn't even seem to hear her. " _This_ is him, Ilya? Him of all people? Are you so desperate to die unhappy?"

"Get out of my way." Tiredly crossing her arms, Tarisilya did her best to ignore Erestor's honest concern. Listening to Tegiend's admonitions for a thousand years had been bad enough. Unhappy? Not what she had been until a few seconds ago. And now another elf tried to convince her that she had chosen the wrong partner. She was sick of it.

Erestor grabbed her lower arms so tightly, it nearly hurt. "You have no idea what you're getting yourself into, Ilya. I know this family, better than most. When it comes to love, you best stay as far away as possible from the two of them. I can't just watch you destroy yourself; you're too important for me."

"That's my decision, why can't you get that in your head?" She fiercely broke away. Erestor had nearly led her astray back then, because he had been the first elf ever to not restrict her freedom. Did he honestly think to make anything better if he turned into the very opposite now?

" _Decision_." Snorting, he crossed his arms as well, in a defensive attitude giving Tarisilya hope that now, he was really about to find some distance to the whole thing. As awful as it was, maybe arguing with her would help him. "You would do anything to rebel against the whole world, and he is probably the only Mirkwood elf with the audacity to marry someone from Lórien. That's not a decision, it's a lack of option."

"So that's how you see me." Shaking her head, she went past him to get to the door where Tegiend fortunately was waiting, wide awake, fully dressed in spite of the late hour and ready to personally show Erestor that he wasn't welcome if need be.

"Was anything real that you showed me back then? Or did you always think me the naive little elf you could play with? If you were really interested in a friendship between us: That is not the way."

"Friends is what you will be needing very soon, if you commit to a life of loneliness," Erestor hissed. Tarisilya knew him well enough to hear that it was mostly anger on himself and on his rash actions filling him. But she would probably long be on her way back to Lórien before he would accept that.

She had seldom been so relieved to close a door behind her.

While Tarisilya and Tegiend weren't in a hurry to get home and would stay in Imladris for a few more days, Legolas was expected back in Mirkwood already. Therefore, he reluctantly got his horse from the palace paddock early the next morning already. He was surprised to spot two horses standing among Lord Elrond's many animals that were seldom seen outside of Rohan. Much less if they had a deep black color basically believed to no longer be occurring in this race. Mearas, a mighty battle steed and a mare looking similar enough to him to know, it was his sister.

"Is there something you kept from me?" he curiously asked when Tarisilya joined him at the fence.

"Lady Galadriel was given them as a gift. By whom and under which circumstance, she never told us. They were foals back then. They are twins," she smiled, bashfully. "It's my fate to constantly be reminded where I come from. Tegiend and me raised them on the bottle, which is probably the only reason why they accept us on their back. They usually only carry descendants of noble houses as you probably know."

"Maybe they knew something, the two of us had to find in our hearts first," Legolas speculated with a wink.

"Unlikely, unless you have a secret brother or sister to marry Tegiend off to," Tarisilya replied in the same tone. "And they would have to get past Haldir first. Provided he'll finally get that in his thick head."

Legolas only arched an eyebrow, not commenting on the innuendo. Same-sex love was a little rarer for elven folk than relationships blessed with children in a natural way. But not even Legolas' father was narrow-minded enough to get hung up on certain social conventions. At least in this regard, he had instilled Legolas with the same natural acceptance that Vandrin had obviously provided Tarisilya and her brother with.

Before he himself had met Tarisilya, the subject had never been interesting to him personally. But he wouldn't have ruled it out either that he might lose his heart to an elf one day just as easily. It was pretty ironic that the relationship that he'd now stumbled into for good, would effectively give his father a bigger headache than a possible discussion about a hypothetical line of succession in case the upcoming conflicts might possibly take both their lives.

"Regardless how it came to pass ... If she accepts you as her master, this indeed is a very precious gift that you will be enjoying for a very long time."

"Yes." Tarisilya lovingly nestled up to her mare's side. The horse seemed to sense exactly when people were talking about it and rubbed its head against Tarisilya's back. "I rode many horses in my life, but Manyala is the most important one since I had to witness Mawëra's last breath. She has the fastest legs in Middle-earth."

"I want proof for that someday, I hope you know that." Legolas patted the neck of his stallion who bristled unwillingly, as if he had understood and wanted to prove Tarisilya wrong immediately.

"No long good-bye this time, Ilya. I'll be seeing you soon. I will come to get you on our clearing as soon as my father can do without me next for a few hours."

"I will be there." She tried to sound just as optimistic, though it was obvious how much she wanted to go with him and tell his father a few things about stubbornness even rivaling a dwarf's.

"I hate to interrupt, but it's time to leave." An auburn stallion came up next to the paddock. His rider was wearing the versatile, robust leather clothing of a Dúnedan and was armed as if he was going to war. "Ada said, it's urgent. Are you ready?"

"Have you been drinking, Estel?" As long as Legolas had to doubt the young man's sanity, he wasn't ready to speak more with him than necessary.

"Ada didn't tell you?" Estel pulled back his hood, revealing confusion on his suntanned face. "I'm supposed to deliver a message to King Thranduil. We're traveling together."

"He surely has his reasons." Tarisilya tried to calm Legolas down before the anger even reached his eyes, about not even having been informed, and especially about Elrond obviously not deeming him capable of bringing some kind of _message_ to Thranduil himself anymore. "Don't fret. This is a good opportunity, isn't it?"

"For what? To lose the last of my nerves?" But since Legolas didn't have a say in Elrond's decisions, he surrendered to his fate.

"Is it not proper in Dúnedain circles to introduce yourself?" As Estel didn't seem to be in the mood for a conversation, it was Legolas who after a solid three hours, spoke up for the first time.

"You know who I am. And what I have seen of you at the turn of the year satisfied my curiosity. Formal ceremonies to get acquainted are therefore not required." Estel didn't stop surveiling the narrow wooden path they'd chosen for even a second. These days, you had to be prepared for dangers in Middle-earth everywhere. That he was aware of that, spoke for him.

His condescending tone infuriated Legolas though. His serenity admittedly left much to be desired since deadly threats were waiting around every single corner of his home. "You don't seem to realize whom you're dealing with."

"Oh, I do. In fact, I'm afraid I already know you pretty well, Your Highness," Estel replied coolly. "Which is why I doubt, you will do me the favor and just keep your mouth shut. Correct?"

Riding out ahead, Legolas turned, cutting Estel off so sharply that his horse startled and balked. "Stop assuming a right to judge things, you have no idea about. If you should one day seek the help other elven realms for whatever fate plans for you, you better watch your mouth. Oh, and: Me, I am the _friendly_ member of my family."

His immensely likable conversation partner surely had a similarly eloquent reply on his lips, but Legolas silenced him with a sharp gesture of his hand.

At least for a moment. "You're going too far …"

"Silence!" Legolas left the man a few steps behind to lock out all sensations around him, even Estel's quick heartbeat and his heavy breathing – maybe he should be smoking less.

He hoped that the noise he'd noticed would fade away. That whoever was close by wasn't after them. Instead, the sneaking steps came closer. 15 men.

"We need to leave this path." Legolas had had too many bad experiences with limited space in battle. They were caught in a trap. And leaving the horses behind to go through the undergrowth would make them even more vulnerable. "Don't ask any questions, just come with me." No matter how little he cared for the man right now, Lord Elrond had entrusted him in Legolas' care. He couldn't let anything happen to him.

"Useless. There's only the path we came from, these people know that. They'll have men there. We better prepare for battle. You're not the only one who has good hearing, Your Highness." Estel showed hint of a smile before he took off the cloak protecting him from the cool temperatures, to be able to move better. "My father says, your strengths do not lie in close combat."

"Your father never went to battle with me." They were already at the point again where yelling at each other became likely. "You're the one missing centuries of experience, so try not to get yourself killed."

Again a grin, bordering on mocking this time. "If you say so."

They didn't let it show that they knew what was upon them, hoping to surprise their enemies. Legolas did his best to block out the feelings raging in him enough to not get distracted from the vital focus on his senses. He didn't fully manage, the last days had been too disturbing. But there were few noises he was as familiar with as with the crunch of a badly wired bowstring. "Archers in red clothing south and west of us. Dismount."

"Haradrim," Estel murmured, too alarmed for disobedience. "What are they doing so far up here? Maybe a group that split off from their tribe, or they are scouts."

"If they are headed for Imladris, the others need to be warned," Legolas realized as well, frightened.

Conflicts among Men which as far as Legolas knew, no side ever entered fully innocently, did actually rarely concern elves in this Age. Legolas had always been advised by his father to keep out of them. So far, he'd fared well with that. There were enough petty quarrels in elven lands keeping him on his toes. Now, those crises of Secondborn raging ever worse recently, seemed to have found him anyway.

He couldn't form another reply. The first arrow ricocheted on the saddle of Estel's horse.

They drew their weapons.

Lord Elrond probably felt how sad Tarisilya was after saying good-bye to Legolas. She couldn't think of another reason for him to invite Tegiend and her to breakfast at his private chambers immediately when she came back to the guesthouse. Being with friends in a private atmosphere was just what she needed to distract herself from the longing already burning in her soul.

Unfortunately, she had forgotten the Lord's sometimes unconventional definition of privacy. And how many people fit on that balcony where he usually held such meetings.

It was too late to turn around when Tegiend led Tarisilya outside to the large marble terrace and she spotted Erestor at the long dining table. She did her best to smile, greeting the Lord, his sons and Arwen and shortly nodding at Erestor, then she sat down next to her brother, trying her best to not listen to anything. She definitely preferred daydreaming about Legolas to another debate with Erestor.

Fortunately, the others respected her quietness, though Tarisilya noticed especially the twins keeping on looking her way.

That, she ignored as well. Her plate, she hardly touched. For some reason, she was unable to get lost in beautiful visions. The question kept on spinning in her mind, what Lady Galadriel would say about this relationship, now that it was finally permanent. And even more important – how would Legolas' father react if he learned about it one day? The long secrecy would hardly help winning him over. Whenever she tried to calm herself with memories of last night, the hurtful argument with Erestor flared up inside her head. Or Tegiend's warning that she was hurling herself into something without a future. Suddenly the same melancholy took hold of her that had tortured her in the worst years of the parting, when she had missed Legolas so much that it had almost hurt physically.

At some point, she just couldn't stay on her chair. She went to stand at the terrace railing, her eyes fixed on the paddocks. Something wasn't right here, was it? Such inner unrest for no reason, coming out of nowhere, that definitely wasn't normal.

What if something had happened to Legolas? Was that even possible, so close to Imladris? And what should that be? He could handle orc attacks, Tarisilya had witnessed that. Who else would have a reason to attack elves, beings who were about to leave this world anyway?

It was getting worse by the minute. Hadn't Tarisilya yesterday detected once again that she could indeed see the ones she loved in her head? Where last night warmth and satisfaction had filled her, there was nothing but ice-cold silence now. And it had nothing to do with Legolas' or her feelings, she would have known that at their farewell. Nothing had changed between them. So …

"Milord, I …" She started to talk before she even realized she would, and paused immediately. How did you explain a thing like that? "I think, Legolas and Estel are in trouble."

Erestor let out an amused, snidely snort; the twins exchanged puzzled glances.

Tegiend at least had the decency to ask. After all, he had experienced it before, that Tarisilya often had good instincts, though it had never been about something so specific before. "Do you feel anything?"

"I'm not sure …" She clenched the railing, looking at him pleadingly. If Lord Elrond didn't believe her, Tegiend was her only hope to find out what was going on. She didn't trust herself with that, not in these dangerous times and not in the light of her meek fighting abilities, which mostly consisted of not missing a target completely. "Someone should ride after them, to go sure …"

"Because of a hysterical elf?" Erestor chimed in before someone could answer.

"Stay out of this!" With her fists clenched, Tarisilya turned to him. Was this some miserable attempt of revenge for not behaving the way Erestor wanted her to?

No, of course she didn't have a real idea what had happened; such feelings and intuitions had always been too vague so far.

Besides, Legolas wasn't being alone. It was very well possible that Estel would come back with him in a little while. After all, Arwen’s partner was an accomplished warrior himself. But this was not about just anyone.

She turned back to Lord Elrond to explain herself, but Erestor didn't give her a chance to. For the first time, Tarisilya witnessed how he was probably acting in his role as advisor, how ruthlessly he tried to enforce his opinion. Talking to her, he had always held back. Now, he finally dropped the mask.

"This whole area has been teeming with orcs for years." He addressed Lord Elrond as if Tarisilya wasn't even there. "And the King of Mirkwood had his son being trained to become just as an effective a warmachine as he himself is. If there's attacks, the two of them will manage them alone just fine. We can't send out soldiers just because someone is lovesick."

For seconds, the silence was absolute; even Elrond's usually very talkative sons were speechless. Arwen looked like she wanted to punch Erestor in the face.

Although no one said it out loud, everyone being aware of possible consequences, at least in this family everyone knew exactly what had happened between two close friends last night. A teasing smile of Elladan or Elrohir had so far been the most bothersome thing, Tarisilya had been confronted with. The prospect of a connection and thereby a conciliation of two estranged elven realms was a lovely one to her friends in this valley, nothing to be talked about so unfavorably.

"That's none of your business," Tegiend snarled at Erestor. In one regard, he wasn't unlike Elrond's advisor, not unlike his captain as well: If need be, he forgot all respect for ranks and titles. "Altogether, for how long have you known my sister? A few weeks? I spent a millennium with her. She knows what she's talking about when she sees something."

Erestor wasn't someone to be easily muzzled though. "All _I_ am seeing here is an immature, impulsive, naive and – forgive the expression – uncouth little Princess who has been told too often that she's something special. In her place, who wouldn't get delusional at some point? You think you're Lady Galadriel now, Ilya? What are you basing your claims on? Do you still hear the voice of the moon?"

"That's enough!" Elladan barged in because his father was still not saying a word, only looked back and forth at Tarisilya and Erestor, a deep wrinkle between his brows.

"Indeed it is." Tarisilya approached Erestor with her hands on her hips. Not only he admitted after all this time how he really saw her, that he had never taken her half as seriously as she had thought. He also tried to to turn her abilities into ridicule. And that brought someone into danger of whom Tarisilya knew deep inside, surer with every passing second, that he needed help.

"If you're unable to be objective when it comes to me, stay out of my affairs. I couldn't care less if you're still being jealous or not. I will not let you ruin my life just because you want to see Legolas dead."

"Ilya!" Tegiend gasped for air and looked at Elrond apologetically. Now the fight was really getting ugly, they both didn't take any nonsense anymore. And worst of all, this wasn't getting them anywhere.

Erestor's usually so blank face was a grimace of anger. The last accusation had hit him deeply. "Watch your mouth, Vandriniel. Your exuberant emotions for that elf have obviously clouded your mind. I'm worried about the safety of my valley, that's all."

"As far as I know, this is still _my_ valley." Lord Elrond put his rebellious advisor into place with a single sentence.

"Call in a few soldiers. Arwen, if you want to go with them, get ready. And get Thondrar."

"Thondrar?" Relieved, Tarisilya slumped back on her chair, doing her best to rein in her impatience.

There was still time. She was sure about that at least. If Legolas … She didn't even want to think that, but _that_ she would have felt.

She had witnessed it often enough, how capable Lord Elrond's soldiers were. And with Arwen joining them … They would find him in time, they just had to.

The name of the elf in command on this quest she had heard before. Thondrar was known as one of Imladris' best warriors. Besides, she had fond memories of the close-lipped, likable elf from that one ride to Lórien back then.

Nevertheless, she would have preferred Glorfindel being in on this.

Although Legolas was always keeping out of the biggest battles, was a very skilled fighter. In almost none of the books about violent conflicts that Tarisilya had studied in the last centuries, were there any entries about his father or him. Since the last big war, they were mostly busy with defending their realm, and Legolas was known far beyond its borders for his excellent performance at that duty. He knew how to defend himself. If something had befallen him, while being in the company of another experienced fighter like Estel no less, that could only mean big trouble.

Tarisilya hoped that her slight discontent didn't show when she asked where Glorfindel was. She had already missed his optimism and his captivating singing voice at the celebration.

"Travelling. He needs a few weeks for ohimself. Parties this big aren't to his liking," Elrond answered with a short smile. "Don't worry, child of the moon. Thondrar is one the people he trusts most. He trained him in his very own image. And Arwen has learned much from Lord Glorfindel too since coming back to Imladris."

"I trust your decisions, milord." Embarrassed, Tarisilya lowered her head. But the worry wouldn't go away.

Legolas needed her, she just knew it. She should accompany the soldiers. Unfortunately, she knew Elrond's attitude towards that. Tegiend, who was staying to support her, would never allow it either. Tarisilya was simply missing any experience of seriously defending herself.

"You need to learn how to hide your feelings." Elrond seemed to know her thoughts once again. "Your mother was like this too. Sincerity helps coming up to people, but it also gives advantage to enemies."

"I'll remember that." Enemies? What kind of enemies? Tarisilya couldn't help but wonder if he was talking about Erestor who had left by now, fuming mad.

"Thondrar is the hunter among us." Elrond pointed at the yard where Arwen was just returning, clad in riding clothes now, wearing a slim blade on her belt. With her came a very tall elf who hid his agile figure under a large cloak, the attached hood low over his face.

"For possibly conducting a healing, my sons will be present. Did you think they're not coming along?"

Embarrassed, Tarisilya looked away. In spite of all disagreements in the past, Elrond appreciated her brother and her way too much to disappoint them.

Trying to distract herself, she examined Thondrar closely. "Doesn't he ever take that thing off?”

"Seldom.” Elrond usually wasn't avoiding conversations but suddenly, he turned reticent. He might respect Thondrar, but something was going wrong between them. To notice that, Tarisilya didn't need to be a visionary.

It wasn't any of her business, but right now she welcomed anything to take her mind off things. "Who is he?"

"No one knows. Thondrar never reveals anything about his past, so don't bother trying." The Lord's tone of voice made it clear that asking again was useless.

"I need to go see the soldiers. Don't worry. If something did happen, we will soon know. And if not, the guards have at least a good training. None of the soldiers will complain about that." Elrond stopped next to Tarisilya's chair to quickly touch her shoulder when she regarded him with deep gratefulness. "I knew your mother, child of the moon. I know what you are, what she was. Besides, it's not half as unusual as some ethink that when two elves are close, their souls touch even without a formal bond. Abilities of this kind are still dormant in First- and Secondborn as you know. But that Estel is not part of our folk, makes it as good a impossible for me to go sure in my head you're right myself. All the more foolish it would be to not send someone to look at least. This is my foster son is out there."

"Thank you."

Tarisilya was very relieved that this time, Tegiend supported her all the way. And that Arwen was volunteering to go to battle so naturally, although strictly speaking, Tarisilya had left her alone after her mother's departure for the west. With both of them fearing for someone close to them, that didn't matter.

Once more, she was the one who had to stay behind. She wondered if she would ever get used to it.

The room was in utter darkness when Legolas opened his eyes. Before anything else reached his conscious mind - like his right side turning into a flaming ocean of pain and deafening silence all around, or the memory of what had happened -, panic about the lack of even a single ray of light was choking him already. Getting frantic, he raised his hand to his head to find out whether an injury was responsible, something that could be healed, or maybe just a blindfold that he didn't feel ...

"Stop moving. There's nothing wrong with your eyes. We're deeply underground."

Estel. Right. The Haradrim … But hadn't that battle be as good as won?

A sword, right, suddenly, there had been a sword ... One, Legolas had only seen from the corner of his eyes. Not Estel's surprisingly skillful blade, but one belonging to an enemy believed dead already … A warning shout … Naked metal on his back, on his side, striking out before he could get out of reach. Or even curse himself for stopping to wear armor a while ago, because he usually could rely on his skills in battle.

And then? He remembered the survivors concentrating all their forces on attacking Estel ... Their sadistic laughter in the certainty of triumph ... Faces of Men that Legolas had rarely encountered before, so very dark in their aura … This was where the images of these people's scarlet red clothes in his head blurred with the blood soaking his own and then faded completely.

"Why did they leave me alive?"

"They want us to die slowly, here, in this chamber. The air is already getting thin. Many Haradrim can only bear their unbridled hatred by taking it out on others. Whatever problem they have with my father, they’re trying to demonstrate that Imladris is in trouble."

At least Legolas' other senses were fully functional. He could hear Estel stand up, his tunic rustling against a moist stone wall before he approached. His walk didn't sound impaired so he probably wasn't gravely hurt. Legolas' sense of smell also told him that they must be trapped here for more than a few hours already. It was a miracle, he was still breathing.

"Seriously, stop moving. I just had that bleeding under control. It's bursting open again." Estel's choice of words as well as his tone of voice had changed considerably. Instead of fear, it held deep worry. When he tightened the coarse fabric of the makeshift bandage, the air faintly smelled of some healing herbs.

So that was why. The Dúnedain and Lord Elrond had taught the young man well. "You always have that kind of stuff on you, in case you get taken prisoner?" His throat felt dry but not sore, and no cough yet, so the lung probably wasn't compromised. But Legolas had seen that blade emerge from his torso and knew how much blood he must have lost. If he survived this, he would not utter a wrong word about Dúnedain ever again.

"These things you learn early on when you lead a life like me." Finished with his short examination, Estel straightened up. His stiff movements let Legolas know that the temperatures in here left only an elf uneffected. The man trembled audibly and suppressed a cough more than once. The way he'd just favored his right arm indicated, he hadn't come out of the battle unscathed after all. Somehow, that was a comfort.

"In Imladris, you seemed to have learned nothing, though you have lived there for so long." The argument from earlier was forgotten. "Take my cloak or I'll put it on you myself, open wound or not. Elves are hardly affected by coldness."

"You mean well but I'm afraid that won't make a difference." Nevertheless, Estel followed the order, to avoid unnecessary discussions alone, then retreated to the opposite wall again. "Like I said: The air is already thin, and the doors are unbreakable. It is unlikely that we'll be found in time, especially since no one is looking for us. Not a day has passed since were attacked. Not even your father will be suspicious."

Only now, Legolas started to understand. Fever and infection causing growing dizziness, and having trouble to concentrate on the conversation, so far had kept him from hearing what his heart wasn't ready to accept. Not two days after he had finally started his life with Tarisilya. Estel's blunt words now had him shiver as well, not from the cold though.

They would suffocate in this room.


	21. Chapter 21 (M/M smut)

"You've been unconscious again. More than an hour this time."

Wasn't waiting for your death in complete darkness bad enough? What were the Valar thinking, providing Legolas with a much too talkative companion on top of that? "You shouldn't talk. It's wasting air. And from the sound of it, you have too little of it already."

But Estel was right, he had blacked out once more. For the third time since waking up after the battle. By now he'd lost all sense of time. Whenever a clear thought tried to form in his head, possibly about a way to escape this trap after all, it was drowned in fog immediately. His perception fooled him too. His own breathing left a terrible hiss in his ears, especially when the pain tried to squeeze a noise through his vocal cords.

He didn't need Estel's warnings anymore to keep lying on his back. Never before had Legolas felt so weak, not even when he'd been trapped in the disgusting sticky mess of that spider web back then. It felt like an evil spirit had tranquilized his mind, like Elwë in those legends. The rational part of him knew of course that it was only the blood loss. But that part vanished more and more, leaving only the cruel feeling of having no control over his body.

And then the coldness. Legolas had never felt so cold in his life. His skin had gone so numb that he only realized tears forming in his eyes when something tickled his temple. The last minutes, he wanted to spend with nothing but memories of the last days.

"Is it getting worse?" Estel was suddenly kneeling beside him again. This time, he had not even heard him coming.

"Not more than in any other minute of the last few hours. Why?" Was he talking to himself maybe?

"Your breathing faltered. I startled for a moment." The answer was belated, and something about it was strange, but Legolas was too exhausted to get what it was.

"Arwen will be devastated." Estel backed away from him again, sitting back against the wall this time where Legolas was lying, as if trying to prevent even more distance forming between them. "She blamed herself for your dispute. She said that she should know your father too well to blame you. Especially for doing basically what she did in the last few decades. Staying silent sometimes is just easier."

"That does sound like her. It was not her fault but mine though." Legolas had no strength for this stupid fight left and wasn't in the mood for it anymore.

That Estel wasn't half as incompetent as expected, he'd proved in the battle where the man had done a lot better than him. A close combat fighter with qualities, Legolas had seldom seen before even among the elves. And the composure he was facing death with, left no doubt about his character either.

He owed him at least an explanation. It was all he had to offer in return for how kindly the man was looking after Legolas anyway. "She was but an elfling when we first met, and I wasn't more than a teen. Ever since then, whenever we meet, she never fails to remind me to take care of myself. She would probably prefer me to be a she-elf, sitting at home, tailoring dresses. Our friendship was always a constant between our realms."

For a while, Estel said nothing. Legolas was certain actually that he'd dropped the subject.

When he spoke up, he sounded a lot different, without that stubborn determination that also defined his movements. "I didn't choose to give my love to her of all people. It took her a long time to convince me, I'm good enough for her. The guilt of taking something as unique as the Evenstar of Middle-earth with me into the darkness of mortals, will haunt me forever."

"It was her decision. To love means accepting that." When exactly had Legolas started to defend Arwen's relationship with this man? He was too tired to remember.

He couldn't tell how much time was passing, since his mind suddenly couldn't decide if it wanted to be awake or drift into blackness, but suddenly he startled.

Estel had jumped to his feet. "Your horse. That was its neigh." Whatever he wanted to say next was swallowed by the barking of a coughing attack.

"You're hallucinating," Legolas managed to say, with some effort. "It's called a fever."

"I thought you noticed by now that my hearing is not as bad as you think." And whatever it was that Estel was hearing, he seemed to take it serious; his footsteps were moving away. Soon he started knocking against one of the walls in a certain rhythm. Somehow, the echo didn't sound like a hole in the ground, more like massive stone.

It was only a few seconds before someone on the other side responded.

Both the sudden new hope to be rescued and growing suspicion gave Legolas enough energy to raise his voice once more. "Where are we really?"

"I cannot tell. An abandoned Haradrim city maybe. It doesn't matter now." Estel didn't bother justifying his lie; more coughing made it impossible anyway.

He didn't have to say it. A dreadful notion crept up in Legolas, and in spite of his battered condition, he quickly sensed the truth in it. They weren't in a dark room. It was him who couldn't see.

At the too loud noise of a collapsing wall, a violent twitch went through his body which fortunately robbed him of consciousness before he could think about it further.

"Estel … So it _was_ true." While Arwen was usually not overly enthusiastic about acting out her emotions in the presence of her brothers, she immediately returned her partner's relieved embrace when Thondrar had torn down the wall of that half-buried cellar in record time, basically with the help of a single blade and his bare hands, accompanied by the audible, nauseating crack of at least one bone.

Elladan and Elrohir, fortunately, didn't spare them a look; way ahead of Arwen they were already kneeling next to Legolas' lifeless body.

Over there, she couldn't be of any use so she stayed away, though it was crushing her heart, seeing all that blood soaking Legolas' clothes, staining the ground. If Arwen was seeing that right, they had just come in time. Tarisilya deserved some especially thorough words of thanks when they returned.

In these temperatures, Estel wouldn't have hold out much longer either, at least not until someone would have come looking for him. Without a certain premonition, that would have happened much too late.

"How did you find us?" Estel gratefully took the two blankets Thondrar handed to him with his healthy arm and wrapped them around himself with chattering teeth, gladly accepting Arwen's help when his also badly swollen, hastily bandaged left elbow failed him. That cellar must have been cold enough. The icy night air didn't make it better.

"You can thank the gift a certain young elf to see those close to her in her mind for that. When we found Hëor completely distraught in the woods, we only needed to make him find the place of attack again. From there, it was easy. Men just don't know how to cover their tracks."

"Hey!" Estel's offended protest turned into a choked wheeze, whereupon Arwen uncompromisingly shoved him to the horses.

"Except for you of course, is that better?" She helped him mount his horse that they'd also picked up along the way, while her eyes were still on the hole in the wall. This conflict was far from over, and she didn't like the look on her brothers' faces at all. "How is he doing?"

"I'm not sure. When he fell, the Prince hit his head very hard on some rock. His eyes … Something is wrong." There was guilt in Estel's voice.

Arwen put him off, and called herself to order too. She deliberately distracted herself by placing a makeshift splint on the ruined knuckles of her brave - and notoriously masochistic - group leader. Driving themselves crazy before they knew anything for sure wouldn't help anyone. "A fantastic healer happens to be our guest. And ada and my brothers have been practicing medicine for quite a while themselves, you know."

But only when Elladan emerged from the narrow passage and let them now with a short nod that at least the immediate mortal danger was gone, she could really relax. Arwen was glad when Thondrar announced that it was time to leave. That the area around Imladris wasn't safe anymore, had just been shown to them once more.

The shadow was growing.

Tarisilya and Arwen were the only ones continuously sitting by Legolas' side in the next few days. Many offered to take over for a while, but Tarisilya didn't want that. Although she knew Elladan, Elrohir and Lord Elrond to be perfectly capable of conducting the healing without her, her body wouldn't be able to rest. Trying to sleep would be futile.

Which was why she was grateful for Arwen keeping her awake whenever she started to feel exhausted, slumping on the chair that except for the bed and the cabinet with healing supplies, was the only furniture in the sparse room. Which helped a lot focusing on the task at hand. Her friend was always there to comfort her when the fear of that assault's consequences for Legolas' life stole the air from her lungs, and she would never forget that.

The one visitor Tarisilya wanted to see least of all though, Arwen saw too late to get rid of him in time.

Wide awake in a second, Tarisilya jumped up from the edge of the bed. She approached Erestor with her arms tightly crossed, because she couldn't vouch for anything if she didn't. His audacity to actually show up here was the final straw. " _Get out_!"

"Ilya …" Such wrath had even someone like Erestor ó Imladris back off immediately. He looked like he hadn't slept for days either. Also like he hadn't changed his clothes since their last argument or use a comb. It seemed he'd only been busy sitting around, thinking about what he'd done wrong. Maybe he had actually understood something for once. Fresh bruises covered his arms. Probably another shelf falling victim to one of his fits.

Tarisilya realized, she honestly didn't care. She had never used violence before, but if he uttered one wrong word now, she would get carried away. "I said, _get out_! Get lost, damnit! You've got no business being here!"

"Would you mind stopping screaming?" But he was talking too loud himself; his pride forbade him to let anyone talk to him like that. "I came to apologize, Ilya."

Arwen came between them before Tarisilya might actually lose control. "Sit down." She led her back to Legolas who had become visibly restless in feverish dreams. "He needs you. I'll take care of this."

Since Tarisilya was not willing to neglect a patient, especially someone she loved, for someone who didn't deserve that, she was quick to agree.

While Arwen was not her father, Elrond's officials had to listen to her orders just as much if she insisted, so Erestor had no choice but to follow her to the door. "Just let it be. The Prince would be dead if you had a say in it. You think, an apology can make that go away?"

"I just wanted to …" For the first in half an eternity, Erestor searched for words in vain, looking back at the bed. The frosty rejection on Tarisilya's face made it impossible to remember all those nice sentences he'd prepared.

"Ilya, listen to me …"

"Go, Erestor. I never want to see you again. Just keep away from me." She didn't even look up. Her cheeks were flushed with anger. Her hand on Legolas' chest was trembling.

He had never seen her like this. The fear taking hold of him when he had first seen her, had finally come true. The fear that something would enter her life and drag the incarnation of innocence into darkness, as was the way of all things.

Now it had happened, and it was his own fault, just because he just hadn't been able to let it be, just because he had been so dead-set on reconciliation with this she-elf to finally be at peace with that stupid story back then. Well, he probably wouldn't get another chance for that now.

When Arwen pushed him out of the door, he gave in and closed it behind him. At least no one could say, he hadn't tried.

"Will you tell Legolas?" Arwen finally asked after long minutes of silence. "About that thing with Erestor, I mean. If one day, you two live a normal life together, sooner or later he'll hear it from someone. Maybe it's better to tell him yourself." She stared into the distance for a moment. Bitterness and anxiety about the future had cast a shadow on her formerly so flawless face in the last years.

Tarisilya knew, she was thinking about Estel, about her own love facing just as many obstacles as Tarisilya's relationship with Legolas. As different as Arwen and here were in many regards, in this case, fate was playing a dirty trick on them. Here in Imladris, Tarisilya would always find someone who understood her.

It gave her strength for the fight lying ahead for Legolas and her. Another one, on top of the one threatening all of Middle-earth, like a sword placed upon their heads.

Their lives would be difficult enough, without burdening the one she loved with something not even worth a sad thought anymore. She shook her head vigorously. "There is nothing to tell."

After finding he couldn't stand being in his own damn library right now, Erestor left a note on his desk, saying he wasn't going to be available for a while, well aware of where Elrond would look for him first. Retreating to his chambers just a storey higher, he locked himself in and then set his mind to the task of getting rat-arsed drunk.

Not a vice he often indulged, this afternoon, he treated it as yet another of his assignments, well-planned, intentionally executed, with the only goal to dull his mind for at least while. While getting intoxicated wasn't as easy for elves as for other folks, not only King Thranduil knew how to cultivate a kind of liquid to render anyone's senses useless, once you had enough of it in your blood.

It was a good opportunity to finally put all those bottles to good use that Lord Elrond kept on gifting him with at various occasions.

It took him a day and a half until it was finally quiet in him, and then it was only a matter of keeping that level. Fortunately, that was something he was pretty good at. In fact, Erestor was still very drunk when Glorfindel returned from his flight to the mountains a few days later.

His friend, for once, wasn't intoxicated when he broke into his bedroom and found him with the second to last bottle still held to his lips. The general shared the last one with him, wordlessly. Then he set up a bath for him next door while Erestor drank the last wine, grumbling about warriors who just couldn't mind their own damn business.

Pulling him to his feet, Glorfindel supported him on his way to the bathroom and undressed him, soberly, quickly, ignoring Erestor's weak, uncoordinated attempts to stop him, then helped him sit down in the steaming wooden tub.

By then, Erestor had stopped struggling. He couldn't care less about his duties, reputation or appearance right now but he had always hated to be filthy.

While he let the warmth and an intense scent of healing herbs tranquilize him further, emotionlessly watching the water go from clear to red, he could hear Glorfindel get busy in his bedroom, throwing out parts of utterly ruined furniture, scrubbing alcohol from various surfaces, changing the sheets.

When he came back, he continued the clean-up in Erestor's soul. After helping him get out of the bath on his still unsteady feet, Glorfindel wrapped him in a thick towel and sat him down on the edge of the tub, taking a few minutes to disinfect and bandage two deep cuts Erestor couldn't quite remember suffering. They probably had something to do with that broken mirror his friend had just disposed of though.

Glorfindel still wasn't talking when he finally lifted Erestor's slumped, tired body into his arms and carried him to his bed. He just laid him down, not even bothering to find him clothes, and then started undressing, while Erestor nestled into the fresh covers with a comfortable sigh, deeply, pleasantly buzzed at this point.

Erestor thought, he was pretty much alright with that. It had been a long time, but he hadn't forgotten anything. What they did when the mood struck them wasn’t usual for Elfkind, but it was far from forbidden or even frowned upon, and Erestor had never cared less about social conventions in his life.

Being bonded through intimacy could only happen if there was a conscious choice by both parties. And Glorfindel had chosen not to be again, as he had told Erestor when they had first done this.

Erestor was fine with that too. This had never been about love. It was about forgetting. And he had never needed to forget so desperately.

Still he didn’t relent right away because he never did. He only turned his head when Glorfindel had shed his cloak and tunic and put away all of his weapons, when he started to unfasten his breeches. They were not even remotely tented. There was no flush on his cheeks, no tremble in his hands. Glorfindel, too, had come here with just another task in mind, and Erestor wasn't sure that was what he wanted tonight.

"I don't need your mercy."

"Which is why you get my anger," Glorfindel answered tonelessly; but he paused, one eyebrow arched.

Erestor thought, he could be fine with that and shrugged, closing his eyes again.

There was indeed plenty of anger, as one proper look at the general had revealed. A nasty slash across his cheek, at least two bruised rips, the grief for another lost warrior soul in his eyes ... So finding and ending those Haradrim had caused losses. Erestor was being wrong: Glorfindel was here to forget just as much, and he knew what they both needed to achieve that.

Erestor let him.

Glorfindel took him apart methodically, as if not a day had gone since they'd last shared this, piece by piece, as skillfully as he was wielding his sword, as mercilessly as he was training his soldiers. Glorfindel used to fuck the way he used to love, to live, to sacrifice. The way he had died. Masterful and – most of the time – without regret.

Climbing onto the bed, falling silent again, he sucked Erestor off first, his hands steadying his hips without much of a caress while he quickly licked and kissed him to hardness. Always determined to take the edge off before a much more satisfying, prolonged second round, he then used the control of every muscle of a warrior to swallow him whole. When he had done that for the first time, a few thousand years back, Erestor had screamed loud enough to wake the dead on the battlefield nearby and come down his throat immediately.

Today, in spite of all the alcohol in his system, he wasn't overwhelmed so quickly, but Glorfindel left him no chance to last for long. He had oil on him already – of course he had, this was what he'd come here for – and next time Erestor bucked up and moaned in pleasure, a slick hand welcomed his ass back on the mattress.

It had been long, but his inherent condition left him indifferent to discomfort, and the stretch was just what he needed right now. He threw his head back and growled, his thighs falling open when two of those long, skilled artist fingers were finally knuckle deep up his ass, drumming his prostate in rhythm with Glorfindel's quick, hard sucking motions like an instrument, and half a minute later he was gone.

As always, Glorfindel finished undressing while Erestor was panting for air, knowing that he hated to be touched right after orgasm – neither of them were here to cuddle.

They didn’t kiss either when Glorfindel covered Erestor's body with his own, they never did. Too intimate, too close.

Erestor wasn't gentle when he buried one hand in Glorfindel's glorious hair to hang on to him as his friend started to open him up further. This was not love, it was not even comfort. Erestor just wanted Glorfindel to fuck the memory out of him.

Which was probably the only reason for not putting up a fight for certain roles tonight. Glorfindel didn't care much for seed inside of him but he had a fondness for being filled; and Erestor usually enjoyed painting this ethereal beautiful face with thick stripes of white, after bending Glorfindel over the desk in his office and give his ass the pounding he craved every now and then. But tonight, in here, he wasn't feeling any of that. And not only because he was way too wasted to fuck someone properly.

He started to turn around when Glorfindel pulled back his hand, but the general shot him a look that would make an orc flee from the sight, nailing him into the mattress with one hand on his chest. Sitting up, he hooked his other arm around Erestor's knee, spreading him. Glorfindel was free of flaw, mostly, but he could be terribly vain, and he let no lover pretend him to be someone else. He wanted Erestor to look at him and that was fine too, though the angle wasn't the most satisfying.

Because Glorfindel was _beautiful_ when he finally let go and allowed his own arousal to show, breaching the slick tight ring, a loud groan in the back of his throat, his face a grimace of unaltered lust. It was a sight one could easily get drunk on. He went too slow and gripped Erestor's hips tightly when he tried to bear down, another feral growl on his lips.

Erestor sighed and stilled, granting his lover his own pace. In the end, that was the fastest way to get what he wanted anyway. True, Erestor couldn't say if his body was truly ready if his life depended on it, but Glorfindel was big, not massive, and he always prepared him well. But this pain his friend wasn't ready to give him just to escape, and Erestor respected him enough to accept that.

Letting go helped; it didn't take long before he felt truly and satisfyingly impaled on that throbbing length, and his mind slipped back into the ease of heat and passion. Spreading himself open further, with both hands at the back of his knees, he rolled his hips with a languid moan, a shudder spreading from the bottom of his spine to his heavy sac, his rock hard cock. With Glorfindel keeping still for now, he couldn't get more than a teasing touch of hardness against his already oversensitive prostate out of it, but that was alright. Maybe that position wasn't so bad after all.

This was good. This was what he needed. And thanks to Glorfindel's tormentingly slow pace, it would last. Maybe for a few hours even.

It left a lot less headache and a better taste in the mouth than gallons of wine, too.

Only when Erestor lazily looked at his lover again, a silent plea in his eyes, Glorfindel started to move. Thankfully, now there was no holding back anymore. His lover used him the way Erestor liked it, shaking off his wrath and frustration about another shadow on the world he'd been reborn into, with every brutal thrust. Never one to leave his companion's wellbeing out of sight, he made sure to angle his hips just right every now and then, making Erestor see stars when the blunt head grazed that one perfect spot.

Then he went right back to a leisurely motion coming mostly from his powerful thighs, nearly pulling out all the way repeatedly, only to reclaim his prize, just as slowly, every inch of searing hot flesh drawing a louder moan of pure lust from Erestor's dried lips.

The hand not keeping Glorfindel's broad upper body at distance, to not open the cut across Erestor's chest further, was busy stroking his pebbled, sensitive nipples, occasional twisting too tightly which didn't stimulate Erestor's pain receptors more than an arrow to his shoulder but sent even more bliss straight to his heated groin.

Erestor tried to give back what his lacking coordination after one or two bottles too much allowed, tightening up on the delicious intrusion occasionally, a steady flow of uncontrolled groans and unintelligible encouragements on his lips that he knew his lover to appreciate.

It was dawning and he felt sore by the time Glorfindel finally brought it to a satisfying end for both of them, and the memory finally faded. Thanks to a sweat-covered, trembling body grounding him into the mattress, the well-known and well enough liked scent of their relief in the air, the warm pulse of belonging deep inside of him, the new day finally didn't feel as heavy on him anymore.

It was all Erestor could ask for, and as usual, when he really needed him, Glorfindel had delivered.

After a few more idle minutes, he softly moved under him and his friend let him go, watching him silently as he threw on a loose fitting robe and went to fan the flames and make tea for both of them.

Only when Erestor passed him a cup, Glorfindel grabbed his wrist for a moment. "I am sorry. I was wrong, judging your feelings for her."

Tiredly shaking his head, Erestor filed the subject away in the lowest shelf of his own private library with the rest of his regrets, deep down where no candle could brighten even a small corner. "They are long gone. So in fact, you were not. And that is the last thing I ever want to hear about it."

He didn't ask for an oath or even a promise, but until the end of their time, Glorfindel would indeed never talk about it again.

"I see you're getting ready to leave. You sure I shall not come with you, Your Highness?" Estel couldn't resist a dig when his morning walk had him run into Legolas at the palace paddocks.

"Definitely. You're bad luck," Legolas chuckled, always quick with a good comeback.

"It's about time. My father needs me."

"You should still wait. Your wound hasn't healed over yet."

It was a relief every time, looking into Legolas' eyes without seeing spots in them. The healers had been very worried for a while, going from one method to another, but finally, the Prince had gotten back both his strength and his eyesight. It seemed true what people said: Legolas wasn't defeated easily.

"Enough for the way home." Legolas patted Hëor, very aware that without the horse, he would probably not be standing here. Tenderly fondling the auburn fur, he signaled him that it was time to leave.

But one thing they had to deal with first. Estel had expected the question much sooner in fact. "Tell me … Why did you pretend that we were in the dark?"

Estel hesitated; what he had done still didn't feel right. You usually didn't patronize a thousands of years old being when you had just a few decades on you yourself. "Actually, at that point, I had no hope to leave this room alive, but I know how vital light is for an elf. That nothing is worse for your folk than being blind. I was afraid, this uncertainty would make you give up, even if we would be rescued."

He found himself holding his breath. The question of the elf forgiving that white lie or not might decide about more than a possible friendship. For Legolas had been right about one thing: The day would come when all of the Free Folks and realms of Middle-earth needed to stand together.

Estel could only hope that he had just made a first step to make this possible.

Legolas beheld the man in front of him silently for many moments. He had seldom felt so foolish; it had been centuries since he had last misjudged someone so badly. He had apologized already for that, and it didn't feel like Estel was still angry with him. This day was very special. For the first time, he felt deep companionship with someone.

"Whatever your fate will be …" Finally, he reached out to squeeze Estel's shoulder. "I am proud to have made your acquaintance. May our paths soon cross again."

"I'm looking forward to it." Estel showed just the hint of a bow and stepped back then so Legolas could get on his horse.

"Looking for someone?" He seemed to notice how Legolas kept on staring at the guesthouses in the distance.

"We already said good-bye yesterday," Legolas denied. "She's probably busy." Before any more questions could come up, he quickly got Hëor to move.

In truth, nothing of the sort had happened. Tarisilya had lingered in the sick room for a few minutes, looking like she waited for him to say something, but he had not been able to tell what. A short caress of his hand when she had been passing him by was apparently all the farewell he could expect this time.

Only when Legolas was about to leave the gap of Imladris behind, he spotted Tarisilya, probably thanks to the tall black mare she had introduced him to on that horrible day. Relieved, he dismounted right next to her and pulled her into his arms. "I thought you wouldn't come."

"I needed to think." It wasn't by chance that she rested her hand on the exact spot at his side that she had treated so often in the last weeks.

"I can't spare you this, Ilya. I can only try to take care of myself and always ride out, whenever I need to, with the purpose of coming back to you."

"I know." She quickly wiped away her tears and tried to smile. "I just wish I could do something, other than living with this fear."

"You already do, moon-queen." Her next tears were wiped away by much steadier hands. In just a few weeks, Tarisilya had already come to love their tender touch deeply.

No matter how often she would have to wait, with the uncertainty of what this fight would bring for Legolas ... The love for her she could see in his eyes, would heal all wounds.

A few minutes later, when they reluctantly brought themselves to interrupt their kiss, Tarisilya finally felt ready for the darkest times of this Age.

When had Legolas last seen the cave palace so deserted? It always was rather quiet around here, sure. But on a day when Legolas expected a dozen servants to welcome him, who only wanted what was best for him of course, it was unnerving to have his own steps in the halls fade, unheard.

When he stopped by his chambers and there was still no one heading him off, he got seriously suspicious. What if something bad had happened? He hadn't noticed anything being off in the woods, but …

"Ada?" His bag slid from his shoulder when he opened the door and saw Thranduil sitting on his bed – and he definitely hadn't just come here five minutes ago. "What's wrong?" Alarmed, Legolas knelt down in front of him.

Thranduil's skin felt way too cold. His robe was an old one, Legolas hadn't seen it for three hundred years. Not a piece of jewelry was in his hair. Judging by his chapped lips, he hadn't had anything to drink for days.

But the worst was his eyes. This deep emptiness in them.

Legolas looked into a mirror of himself, at the time when he had arrived in Imladris. A reflection that had only changed when Tarisilya had come to him.

No one had been there for Thranduil to comfort him about what so many of the elves had felt coming.

"I shouldn't have left." As if he was still an elfling looking for protection from the howling of a storm, Legolas nestled his cheek against Thranduil's hands. "Why can't it be like that anymore? A quick caress, a few words, and all fear is forgotten."

Finally his father started to move. The proximity freed him from the state of shock. "I wanted to build a realm for your mother and you where no one ever needed to be afraid. Instead, I first lost my wife and then the battle for my world. The time of the elves in Middle-earth is over. Soon, the last of us will be gone. I failed my quest already. I don't want to lose you, too."

"But I'm here! I am here, ada!" Legolas had to wonder if Thranduil actually noticed him or if he thought to be talking to an illusion. "I'm fine. I made a small mistake, that's all. It's not going to happen again."

"There's no _small_ mistakes at war." Thranduil swiftly bunched up Legolas' tunic, revealing the ugly scarred place at his side that hadn't been when Legolas had left the realm. "There's elves who died from less severe wounds. I've held many of them as they left. I kept up this fortress because I hoped that the shadow could be banished without me having blood on my hands once more. Instead, it's now my son going to war."

"And we will win." Legolas somehow got his father to stand up, with both hands firmly on Thranduil's shoulders. "You prepared me for a battle like this in every possible way. I do not fear what is coming. I will always return to you. You hear me? Always."

As much as he meant his words, he could clearly see, they were only provoking more grief and bitterness in Thranduil. They would part without a fight but once more in silence tonight.

At least his father now had somewhat regained his composure. After a sharp look into Legolas' eyes he straightened himself and quickly downed a glass of water from the bedside table, so he could shout orders to the guards outside the door again.

"What are you two still doing here? Why hasn't anyone sent for a healer yet?"

Legolas knew better than to protest, though he really wasn't in the mood for even more healing sessions, just so some scar tissue might look a little paler in the end. And if he was being honest, he didn't mind the brilliantly trained palace healers dealing with the subject of his eyesight for a while.

For the moment, his father had suffered from enough fear for him.


	22. Chapter 22

"You've asked to see me, milady." More anxious than she cared to admit, Tarisilya stopped at the stairs in Lady Galadriel's garden. She had been in this facilities countless times, to relax after long journeys or to find peace when everywhere else in Caras Galadhon it had been too loud. But never at this time.

With clouds veiling the moon, the blackness of the night drowned everything in an unsettling grey light. The trees didn't look as inviting as usual but cold and bare. For the first time in a long time, Tarisilya was afraid to step on something and cut the soles of her feet.

Tegiend was often woken up in the middle of the night when they needed him to be on guard, but what could Galadriel want from her at an hour like this?

"Come to me, child of the moon." Galadriel stood at the mysterious fountain Tarisilya had heard so much about already.

Knowing from experience that with this elf, asking never helped, she went to stand behind her as quietly and patiently as possible.

"Your father came to see me this morning. Long have I expected him. It is hard, fighting for a world that sees such peril for a second time when somewhere else, peace is waiting."

Galadriel dipped a fingertip in the quiet water, causing circles that made her unusually pale appearance blur. "A destiny that my heart has to learn how to accept. In the end, there won't be many of us dwelling in Middle-earth."

"This world isn't lost yet, milady." Tarisilya wasn't half as surprised as Galadriel might think.

Vandrin had been more or less openly talking about wanting to settle in Valinor for years. Although the thought of living without him was unbelievably cruel, Tarisilya was aware that Vandrin had fought for Middle-earth for Ages and looked back on his time here with both happiness and grief. He had earned a quiet evening of his life more than anyone.

Tarisilya on the other hand, belonged here. Not forever, she was honest enough to admit that. What she had never thought possible when she had been young, after the last incidents now was clear to her. As much as she loved Middle-earth, one day she would be drawn to the west as well. In a far distant future, when Legolas' and her life together would long have normalized. That was why Vandrin's decision hurt her less than expected. This good-bye would not be their last. Besides, she would still have Tegiend. After the last millennium, Tarisilya was actually quite good at missing people, for centuries if need be.

"Then we are both among those with enough strength to withstand the shadow." Galadriel smiled at her approvingly.

"Yet I worry about the source of your strength, and that being without your father will leave you with a life of loneliness. I was surprised to see your brother and you come home alone."

With tight lips, Tarisilya stepped back, retreating from the fountain, that magic that always had frightened her and tonight felt more threatening than ever.

Leave it to Galadriel to praise you first and then push you into an emotional abyss. Apparently the Lady just couldn't help but reading Tarisilya's thoughts and therefore knew, of course, about the events in Imladris that Tarisilya had told no one in Lórien about. If Galadriel had a problem with them, she should just confront Tarisilya. Not throw insults at her, coupled with yet another incomprehensible lecture.

"Why did you call me here?"

"What is it that you fear, child of the moon?" Galadriel followed her until Tarisilya stood with her back to a tree and couldn't go any further. Her usually so sympathetic eyes had darkened, her whitely features turned haggard. "What kind of love causes too much pain to reveal it to the world?"

Tarisilya felt suddenly more afraid than ever before in Galadriel's presence.

This was no longer the elf who was wisely ruling Lórien along with her husband, ever since Amroth's disappearance. A dark enchantress was standing right in front of her, who for some reason wanted her on her side and wouldn't allow her to say no.

"What are you doing? _Why_ are you doing this to me?"

"It is not I who is hurting you. You see in me but the epitome of your pain." Galadriel raised her hand to her cheek. Her fingers felt like coldest marble. "These tears you cry will accompany you through every hour of this war. Not only your father will leave you. Your brother has long heard the call of the west as well. With only a few other elves you will be waiting in our fortress, while the marchwardens will try to keep death away. And the one who promises you eternity won't be with you for even one day."

"That's not true." Though Tarisilya's words were only a whisper, they roared through the emptiness of the garden like thunder, at least as powerful as Galadriel's voice.

"That's _not true_!" Using the strength her anger was granting her, she shoved Galadriel away as if she was wrestling with her brother instead of facing one of the oldest elves of Middle-earth. "Why are you forcing me to see a future I didn't ask for? I don't care what your Mirror says about my fate! My life is in my own hands! I did everything I could for my dream and was rewarded with the happiness I yearned for so long. Do you seriously think I would cop out now that he needs me the most? No one will ever see that happen, no matter how many people are against us! Not from me, and not from him either!"

Only when the echo of her screams faded away and the nightingales, after a frightened pause, started their song again, Tarisilya realized what she had done. Startled, she lowered her head and bit her lip but then looked up with ongoing determination. She had only said what was in her heart. If Galadriel banned her from the woods for that, she would leave. Even if she had to set up camp by the borders of Mirkwood, like Legolas had in the beginning, and wait for him every day.

With her gentle, reserved appearance back, Galadriel looked like nothing had ever happened. Most tender care flashed in her eyes – and pride. "Your hand, child of the moon."

A little calmer but still confused, Tarisilya held out her right hand to her. A touch as a peace offering, from Galadriel? Very doubtful.

"Palm up." Two small, cool items touched Tarisilya's skin, then Galadriel closed Tarisilya's fist around them. " _Galadriel's Blessing_. To strengthen the power already within you. As your heart is true, child of the moon, walk down your difficult path with my best thoughts and wishes going with you."

Her hand trembling, Tarisilya held the gift into the light. Two identical silver, slightly ribbed rings, without adornment or marking, completely unspectacular. And still they glistened brightly in the light of the night. "What will we see when we wear them, milady?"

"Your greatest fear. Pain and suffering of the one you love most." Galadriel placed a tender kiss on her forehead. "Let this knowledge change the fate you fear so much. And the fate of the one who might become our hope one day."

"You scare me, Ilya." When the fourth hour in a row passed without Tarisilya moving away from the window, Tegiend couldn't stand her silent, ceaseless tears anymore. "For you, I kept my mouth shut, since the night you found your luck, hoping that you would finally share with me again what grieves you so much. Do you want to shut me out completely now?"

"How could I? How do I live without the other part of myself?" Only her eyes moved his way. Her posture was stiff as if she had merged with that spot always lit by the moon the most. "You tell me because I don't know what becomes of me once you leave with ada."

"Who said anything about that?" Startled, he pulled her into his arms. "Ada isn't going anywhere, and neither am I! How can you even …?" He stopped abruptly. "You went to see Lady Galadriel."

"I didn't need her to tell me. I know how much your Sea-longing has been troubling you two." Tarisilya tiredly shook her head. "I have no right to be in your way."

"But the chance to spare me this decision." If she was hoping for comfort, she would now have to realize that Tegiend was not ready to give it to her anymore. He had taken care of her for so long, ignoring all of his own wishes. Now he wanted to and he needed to think about himself.

"As long as even a single elf in Lórien needs protection and Haldir has use for my abilities and my support in his troops, I will gladly fulfill my calling as a marchwarden. If you are right though, if ada should decide to give up everything he has achieved here, both my love for him and my heart would win. Every scream of the white gulls out there begs me to turn my back on the darkness in Middle-earth."

"And be gone when it finally clears up?" Tarisilya knew of all this. But hearing it out loud now deepened those wounds festering already.

Tegiend hesitated to answer. For the first time in forever, he let her see tears in his eyes.

"As much as it pains me to say, I do not have this hope anymore. Not the hope that it will stop this time, and if it does, none that it won't happen again. The Valar called the elves home when they were first exposed to the dangers of this world. Maybe it is their will that we live in reclusion. Is that idea so horrible? A place where you can forget all the bad things you saw here? Where maybe nana is waiting for us? No, don't answer that. I can feel it in your tormented soul that you are pondering this already. That's all I'm asking. That's all that ada will want to know too. Just promise me to figure out if there really is no alternative for you, before you ask me to pick one."

"Tegiend!" The wall finally shattered, Tarisilya threw her arms around her brother, sobbing.

It was dawning already when her tiredness defeated her grief.

"With that look on your face, maybe I'll better leave you alone." Legolas regretted it before he had even finished the sentence.

His lousy mood wasn't Tarisilya's fault. That she wasn't over the moon about them not meeting for way too long once more, shouldn't surprise him.

And instead of asking her if she wanted to talk about it … "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made you wait so long." He tiredly rubbed his eyes. This was not how he had imagined this day would go.

It took Tarisilya a while before she could bring herself to answer. "No, you're right. I'm not feeling good. I'm not doing either of us a favor by not telling you why. If we can't manage to talk, we might as well turn back now and start writing letters."

And riding all the way to Rohan had definitely taken them too long for that. On any other day, she would have been happy to feel Legolas close and waiting for her. Ever since that conversation with Lady Galadriel at the beginning of the year, and the one with her father on the day after that, everything had changed somehow. Not even the excitement of getting to know a new place helped, a tiny village at the very edge of Rohan, with large meadows and fields, and many spots where Legolas and her could be all by themselves. Like this deserted paddock right here. This evening, none of them could really enjoy the feeling of grass under their bare feet.

When Tarisilya let Legolas know that Vandrin's decision to leave Middle-earth was now set in stone, he didn't try to keep up a smile anymore, that she had long identified as false anyway. "When?" He quickly took her hand; she could feel his pulse starting to race.

In spite of the depressing topic, it was nice how natural such gestures were already. And that outside of Mirkwood, no one cared about two lovers who were forced to hide.

"He doesn't know. He's not in a hurry and has much to organize. But I don’t expect him to still be here at the end of the century. Maybe he won't even last 20 years." As Tarisilya's fingertips absently traced Legolas' palm, she could feel calluses from practicing archery for centuries. Thanks to his tunic sleeve exposing some of his lower arm, she could see small scars on his skin and wondered where they came from. She had been looking forward so much to talk to Legolas at length, to finally learn about all these things ... She still wanted to, but today, she didn't have the strength.

"He leaves it to us to decide alone, you know. When Tegiend and me were in Imladris for the turn of the year of Men, he realized that he has really let us go. He wasn't worried about us for even a second. He knows how capable a fighter Tegiend is and how well he takes care of me. He looks upon us with pride and would never order us to come along on such a final journey."

"But you want to," Legolas realized, visibly shocked. "So you already gave up on Middle-earth as well."

"No, my prince." His premature judgement elicited a bitter smile from her. "Just like the elf who was always something like a foster mother to me, I'm one of those whose souls are chained by hope. I _want_ everything to be as it once was. If luck is on our side, we might have a very long, beautiful time left on this world, maybe with your father or in Lórien, if we make it to cast away shadows of the past. But once even our own realms turn emptier by the decade … Then I would one day give in to the yearning for my father and the others who left. The yearning to maybe finally be allowed to meet my mother. Probably to the yearning for my brother too, depending on what he decides. He still hopes for me to go with him and ada."

"Is that what you want, Ilya, accompanying them? You're deflecting." Legolas startled when Tarisilya pulled back her hand and her eyes suddenly flashed with anger.

"By the stars, I don't know! Do you think it will be easier if you all keep pushing me? You're just like my brother!" The honest confusion and offense on his face brought her to tears. Why was she treating him like that?

It was only natural that he didn't her want to leave him alone, especially since he couldn't seem to make up his mind about ever wanting to leave this world or not. There was much more holding _him_ back.

"This is not a place for such a conversation." Legolas whistled for the horses and motioned Tarisilya to get on Manyala.

It felt unfamiliar, being in a saddle. They were both as uncomfortable with it as the horses. The disadvantage of wanting to visit cities of Men without revealing yourself as an elf, for elves were rare guests there and not always welcome.

When they took a broad rural road into a piece of fir forest, passing merely a few houses built at wide intervals, Legolas spoke up again. "You're right, you know. Elfkind is is dying out in Middle-earth. Not many elflings were born in Mirkwood in the last two hundred years that we know of. Some people want to wait, and are already toying with the idea of leaving. And in a way, I get that, especially when you're yearning for family and friends across the sea. But isn't the loneliness here all the more a reason to keep up the fortresses and fight for a safe world that the last of us can populate? Where our numbers might increase again someday?"

"That's possible as well," Tarisilya nodded. "If I'd spent as much time here as you and your father, that would probably be my endeavor as well. A few weeks back I wouldn't have believed how much I'm suddenly feeling drawn away from here. You know how much I always loved this world. That's why I'm not ruling out this future. I will you support you best as I can, whatever fate has planned for you in the next years. If the shadow can be defeated and life begins again here … Who knows what happens to the rest of us then? I think it would be wonderful if there were new settlements. But you should know even better than me how long an eternity can be. As little as I would refuse a happy life among Men, I am asking you just as much to not leave our home in the west out of sight. One day, the call of the sea will reach you as well. It took me years to understand that I heard it on my travels with ada and Tegiend already, and did only suppress that with all of my strength."

In the following minutes, she gave him time to process all that and let the impressions of the area wash over her. Rohan, with so much level country and the love of its people for the horses, just like Gondor was among the regions where she felt most comfortable. There were enough unspoiled places around here, like these woods where they quickly left the road, letting the horses find their own way through the gently undulating landscape.

"When I wonder how it is to be really happy in Middle-earth again, I have images like these in my head." Tarisilya dismounted to feel the ground beneath her feet as Vandrin would have put it. Only then you could really tell the kind of land you had entered. A broad tree trunk, the last holdfast on top of a steep hillside, invited her to lean against it and let the sounds of the night fill her. Feeling the fir with her whole body, its pulsating bark, breathing in its pleasant scent, she tried to just be glad that at least nothing could defeat nature itself so easily.

"I've taken enough time to learn. Now I want to feel the life in me. You are a part of it that I don't want to miss anymore. I just don't know if I can really be happy without my father and especially my brother. And if I can, for how long."

"Look at me, Ilya."

She knew he was about to say something important. He sounded just like in Imladris when he had confessed his love to her. But that he had bent the knee for her, while she had been staring at that village far below them, she definitely hadn't seen coming.

"Don't do that, Legolas. Don't put me on a pedestal so high, you won't be able to reach me at some point." This worshiping gesture made her uncomfortable, feeling like a stranger to herself, and she didn't like that at all. "I don't want to be anything better or worse than you. I want us to be equals."

"Which is exactly why I am renouncing my descent for one night, moon-queen, as a simple elf of Mirkwood looking up to you, to ask you for your love. Just like your parents once found each other across all the borders between our realms." Legolas' eyes in the starlight were shining, revealing how much Tarisilya's words had thrown him off balance.

"I wish I could promise you a safe tomorrow. I can't even promise you enough peace to enter Lórien like one of you whenever I want to see you."

"I never asked that of you." She wished he would get up. She understood that he tried to make her see how helpless he was standing before her, because he couldn't provide a home for their love, but did he have to make that such a spectacle? Funny to think, Tarisilya had heard some people say, Legolas wasn't prone to his father's exorbitance.

Only belatedly, her mind signaled her that Legolas had just asked her something she could impossibly have gotten right. Apparently, that wine she'd had earlier, hadn't agreed with her. "What?"

"Marry me, Ilya," Legolas repeated calmly.

Vandrin let his son persuade him only reluctantly to forget about his records for a few minutes and go for a ride. He really had other things to do right now. But Tegiend's disappointed look quickly reminded him of one particular thing, he would maybe have to deal with soon - namely, not seeing his kids for a very long time. Books could wait.

"Is your sister not coming?" he asked, confused about finding Tegiend by the stables only with his stallion Matis and Vandrin's mare.

"Ilya has been doing nothing but lying around in her room and drawing for three weeks," Tegiend replied with a half-unnerved, half-amused sigh. "Punishment will come soon enough. Manyala will unseat her immediately next time, after she's been neglecting her so much."

"That's not like her at all. Do you know what's going on with her?" His own question had Vandrin frowning. In the past, he'd asked it differently. In the past, he wouldn't have any doubt that Tegiend knew exactly what was up. These days, Tarisilya didn't even tell her beloved brother everything.

At least it was a little bit like the old days: Tegiend actually blushed, very softly, visible only to the attentive eyes of a father, and stared into space. Just like back then, when Tarisilya had asked him to keep her secrets. Not once had he betrayed her to their curious father. "If I'm not mistaken, you are about to find out."

"Once more, I come here as a stranger and do not dare to knock. Please forgive the discretion, Vandrin. Thank you, Tegiend."

Legolas quickly nodded at Tarisilya's brother, the silent request to leave them alone.

"Nothing wrong with a little ride outside the gates." Vandrin fortunately didn't seem to resent Legolas for the secrecy. Carefully hiding how much the visit was taking him by surprise, he openly inspected Legolas' appearance, his manner, everything that had changed since their meeting all those centuries ago. "Tidings were brought of you getting injured in Imladris."

"Lord Elrond's foster son and I were attacked by hostile Men. It's only thanks to your daughter's skills that I am still alive. And thus thanks are due to you, her teacher." Legolas gave him the hint of a bow.

Vandrin, just like they said about Lady Galadriel, was not an elf of many words. With so many centuries on this world, apparently you got tired of small talk at some point. Legolas wasn't surprised when he stopped abruptly, impatiently, looking at him like when he had forbidden him to see Tarisilya.

"Let's cut this short. I'm not talking to an immature boy anymore, you don't have to prove that first. What I am seeing here is a fighter coming to me with his heart in his hand. Thank you for that; I do appreciate the sincerity. I have long released my daughter into the life of a grown up, and judging by her change since Imladris, her feelings for you are the same. You might still have to ask your father for permission, but not me. I'm glad for her, though your relationship will demand a very hard decision from her at some point soon."

"Harder than you think, I'm afraid." Now that the spell was broken, Legolas also got straight to the point. "I asked Tarisilya to marry me, and I come to seek your blessing."

For long seconds, it felt like Sauron's banishment from Dol Guldur had never happened. The sky lost all color, and the sounds of the surroundings failed. The coldness of fear flooded Legolas' soul when Vandrin's friendly expression immediately turned sour.

"You do know how to chain an elf's heart to yours. Just like some people said about me when I married Tarisilya's mother. If my daughter is to share her fate, what objection can I have? She is happy. In spite of all troubles ahead of you, and in spite of how much the decision will tear her apart, which world shall be her home ... In the end, that's all that counts for a father."

Vandrin shortly brushed Legolas's shoulder. "I keep my promises. I told you I wouldn't deny you my daughter. You give me no reason to revoke that permission. My thoughts are with you. Before you thank me though, hear my only condition."

"If I'm reading your sympathy for my difficult situation right, I already know it, ada." No, that wasn't too easy to say yet. They both smiled at it. "Ilya has enough that weighs on her heart, without getting entangled in a feud that isn't even her own. And at this point, I do not want to rebel against my father. For now, no one will learn about this. That gives everyone a chance to internalize the new situation."

"The wisdom of your age speaks for you, Legolas." Another touch, this time one that Legolas knew from Thranduil. An appreciative and supporting grip around his upper arms that made his frustration about his father's stubbornness a little easier.

Vandrin used the chance to look at Legolas' hands but didn't seem to find what he was looking for. "I could swear, Ilya has started wearing a piece of jewelry that I've never seen before."

"It didn't come from me. It was a gift of her foster mother. The second one, she gave to me." Lowering his head, Legolas gathered up his hair so Vandrin could see the silver twinkle at his neck, where said ring was braided into one strand. "Archer," he smiled, apologizing, when he saw Vandrin's slightly peeved expression. "I don't want to risk losing it, or miss a target because of it and lose my life in battle. Ilya carries my promise with her that I'll be wearing this ring on my finger once Middle-earth survives the upcoming war and our new life will finally begin for us."

The resignation with which Vandrin looked east considerably dampened the mood. "For Ilya's sake, I wish I still had the illusion that this day will come, ion nín. But I'm afraid, we will be meeting again with the rest of the elves in Valinor and mourn a lost world, once Sauron rises again."

"As long as there's even a spark of hope in me that it won't come to that, my fate is bound to Middle-earth." It was hard to not let so much pessimism infect him. "Everything is possible, ada. That's all that is certain right now. With your trust in me in my heart, I return to Mirkwood."

"Until we meet again."

Vandrin watched Legolas leave until the figure in the distance wasn't visible even to elven eyes anymore. He'd mentioned another meeting ... But without having mental powers like his late wife or the gift of foresight like Lady Galadriel, his heart knew without a doubt that he would not see the elf again who would take care of his daughter from now on.

At least not in Middle-earth.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus, part #1 of this series comes to an end. Thanks again for kudos and hits. Let me know what you thought please. Part #2 takes place right within the war.

_T.A. 3017_

Until the very last moment, a small, stupid part of Tegiend had hoped.

The ride to the Celebrant, a route that he knew like the back of his hand, had never felt so long. Never had silence between his father, his sister and him hurt so much.

And he had never been so unrestrainedly angry with Tarisilya.

She must be able to hear his thoughts in her mind, considering how badly he was shielding himself from her, but she didn't look at him even once. As pale and absent-minded as she'd been for years – safe for the few times she had left to meet someone outside the woods who still didn't dare to enter –, she stood next to Manyala and waited for the farewell to be over. Only when her father took her in his arms, her listless eyes came to life for a moment. She returned his embrace, crying endless tears, clinging to Vandrin until Tegiend quietly reminded her that it was time.

"I know." For a second, she radiated uncertainty as if she was failing to stand by her decision. As if she was contemplating asking Vandrin to leave tomorrow, taking her with him after all.

Instead, she lowered her arms and stepped back, after a last deep, tearful breath. "Forgive me, ada. I know, I am causing you great grief."

"Pain passes, Ilya. Even the pain about losing your mother or the one about turning my back on everything so important to me for thousands of years. The freedom of choice is not always a blessing, I know that. And like she once asked me to not make my decision about where I want to live dependent on her fate, your heart shall be free of me too."

Vandrin kissed her almost snow-white cheek. "Do not hesitate. Who knows, maybe she's already waiting for me. As long as it takes, we then will together be waiting for the ship that will bring you to us one day. With the reassurance in our hearts that not one but two elves whom you love are looking out for you, for my little girl."

"I'm not little anymore." It could have sounded amused if Tarisilya's voice hadn't lost such nuances some time ago. The way she said, it was nothing but a fact. The depressing certainty that she was no longer her father's daughter but first and foremost an elf responsible for her own decisions. An elf torn apart by the guilt of denying her brother the journey into the west.

"You really are not." As valiantly as Vandrin had accepted Tarisilya's decision, even a thousands of years old elf could sway for a moment, when he was being robbed of what he loved most. It looked like he wanted to hug Tarisilya again, only to never let her go.

But then he turned to Tegiend who was staring past them as if none of this was his business. "So I am leaving you with this big burden, at your own request. And I will not fret, in spite of all the darkness choking this realm. I couldn't think of anyone better to take care of Ilya until fate will decide her path."

"Thank you, ada." It was all Tegiend managed to say. He was afraid, he would start to yell at Tarisilya if he lost another word about the situation.

He didn't need to say anything. Vandrin knew exactly how much Tegiend envied him. They had rode out together so often in the last years, while Tarisilya hadn't been able to motivate herself to do anything anymore. For hours and hours, they had circled the areas surrounding Lórien. After a quick glance east, to reassure themselves that not leaving Middle-earth was foolish for every elf, they had always rode to the Anduin. Often enough, Vandrin had held his son in his arms when Tegiend had broken down at the screams of the gulls, comforting him with the reminder that his time would come. That it wouldn't be long before they would spot the white sails of their ship in the distance, and then everything would become unimportant …

Now Vandrin would be walking down this road alone. Centuries, millennia maybe would pass until this rift between his kids could heal.

"Keep your eyes on the horizon, ion nín." For a last time, Vandrin hugged Tegiend tightly to his chest, then he let go of him as well.

Without another word that wouldn't have made things better anyway but would only have opened more wounds, Vandrin turned his back to Lórien. Not too long afterwards, he left Middle-earth behind as well.

Except for rare nightly trips with Manyala, it had been the last time for Tarisilya to leave her talan or raise her voice to speak … until that one black evening when Legolas would enter Lórien for the first time in his life, with Estel and the Ring-bearer by his side.

_T.A. 3018_

"Anything else?" Legolas was busy simultaneously packing and preparing his horse for departure; he hardly looked up when his father entered the stables. "Are you back to not trusting me again? I know what I have to do. It's not the first time you're sending me to Imladris with a message."

On another day, so much disrespect would without a doubt have made Thranduil angry. Today he seemed to comprehend Legolas' agitation. It had been hard on him as well that the elves of Mirkwood had so miserably failed the very first assignment given to them in this war. One that might decide all their fates no less. All that was left to do now was informing Mithrandir and Aragorn about their mistake as quickly as possible, and hoping that Gollum wouldn't be found by the wrong people, now that he was back on the loose.

"And it was never before so crucial that you're riding like the wind. But that's not why I'm here."

"Then why?" Thranduil usually never beat around the bush like that. Why start now when there was really not a second to lose?

"Will you finally _stand still_?" Legolas only realized how unrestrainedly he had snarled at his horse when it bolted, startled, and when the still quite young servant who had gotten it from the paddock for him, who was waiting eagerly in the aisle between the stalls to see if he could be of any further assistance, ducked his head, frightened.

Rubbing his forehead, he tried in vain to wipe away his unrest and signaled Avrelas that he should take his leave. He couldn't bring the youngling along anyway, no matter how much Avrelas had been longing for quite a while now to accompany him on some of his journeys. The circle of confidants regarding certain events had to be kept as small as possible right now.

That was all the more for unpleasant discussions among royals to be expected. "It was a difficult day. I'll have enough time on the way to get myself back together."

"And that is exactly what I'm doubting." They had never talked about what had happened in Legolas' chambers back then, about what was making the King of the Woodland Realm's heart sink. But now some of that war fatigue came back, especially the wish to protect his son from the upcoming storm.

"When you're out there, Legolas, remember there's no going back once you raised your weapon for the first time. I can't order you to stay out of the schemes being formed while we talk; you're too old for that. Just remember that whatever happens in Middle-earth, Mirkwood needs your courage and your bow too."

"You should have thought of that when you left for Dol Guldur," Legolas answered bitterly. "You didn't want my help back then. Why should the fate of the woods now depend on one weapon?"

"You weren't ready back then, I stand by that. Being able to kill is not enough to achieve the rank of a true warrior. You have to go to battle with an open heart. Ride to Imladris with this last and most important lecture. Don't let anyone send you to the front line before you even know what's happening. Ask yourself if you are ready to die for this world. Or if your fear of not coming back to the she-elf you love will cloud your mind."

Legolas had heard all of this before, so his attention during this speech soon started to drift. He was more focused on a dull-edged arrow head than on monotonous teachings that he long knew by heart.

Thranduil's last sentence though made him startle violently whereupon the tip left a cut on his palm as if it wanted to prove how useful it still was. "What … did you just say?" Impatience and irritation in his voice had been replaced by a caution, as if he didn't want to hear the answer. Thranduil had misspoken, sure. He couldn't know anything about Legolas' engagement ...

"How blind do you think I am?" With a bitter laugh, his father turned away to go back to his duties, to defend his home from whatever would be threatening his people very soon.

"Go now. You need to hurry."

"Ada …" It was absurd to lose his head now of all times. Legolas blinked, then blinked again, but the tears clouding his eyes didn't want to go away. The year of fate had started, and he was leaving his father behind with the biggest disappointment of all. Maybe it would be Legolas coming back to Mirkwood someday – if that would ever happen –, just to stand before the ruins of this palace or even before his father's grave. And then he would have to live with knowing they had been in conflict at their last farewell.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to leave you with a heavy heart. I was selfish and a coward. I will …"

" _Silence_!" Thranduil snapped at him as if he was still 15 years old and had not learned yet that sometimes talking back to his parents was a bad idea.

"What delusions do your fears give to you, Legolas? If you had listened to me for a change, you'd know that I didn't ask you to give up your love with even one word. On the contrary. I warned you not to risk your life, if you don't want to lose it again after all this waiting. If there's even the smallest doubt about that in your heart, go back as soon as you brought tidings to Lord Elrond. Someone who is not ready to die for his duty, has no place in battle. I hope I could teach you that at least, ion nín."

"You have." Legolas wiped his bleeding hand on his rope, hardly feeling the pain. He had never felt so lost before in his life. For the first time since Gollum's escape, he couldn't say for what kind of personal purpose he was riding to Imladris.

There was only the comfort that he wouldn't be alone with this decision. Aragorn's unwavering wisdom and strength that had saved Legolas' soul before - long before his friend had even revealed to him who he really was, and the kind of destiny he was carrying on his shoulders - would show him the way.

But one thing he needed to know before he left. If Thranduil suspected that there was an elf by his side, and even who it was … "Ada, does that mean …?"

"We are at war, Legolas." They looked into each other's eyes for a last time, trying in vain to cross the distance between them. "Don't ask questions that became irrelevant when Sauron's spirit gained power over Dol Guldur. At war, there is no time for change. If we all are to see this world renewed … Then maybe a few things will be different. But so far, the two of us have done nothing to kindle this hope."

Legolas stowed his last arrow in his quiver and shouldered his bow. "Then it's about time we start."


End file.
